


A Play to Remember

by AppleScentedLazers



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Eventual reveal, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mildly violent??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 58,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleScentedLazers/pseuds/AppleScentedLazers
Summary: When Danny's drama class puts on a play and Fenton is cast as his own crime fighting counterpart, what's the worst that could happen?Everything, apparently.With a new villain rising and lines to learn, the people of Amity start to see that there may be more to their resident ghost boy than meets the eye.
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Sam Manson
Comments: 157
Kudos: 238





	1. Beginnings

Danny had spent all of lunch fighting ghosts and now, sitting in fourth period drama, he was exhausted. Tucker sat beside him, not paying attention to the slightly overweight teacher rambling on the stage before them.  


It was none other than Mr. Lancer; the bane of Danny’s high school career. Something hit the back of Danny’s head as the A-Listers snickered, probably a piece of one of their leftover lunches.  


“—Danny Phantom,” Mr. Lancer finished his spiel and waddled to the edge of the stage, his voice flat as a blown tire.

Danny’s head shot up at the mention of his alter-ego, “Tucker,” He whispered, “What’s going on?”

“Sleeping again, Mr. Fenton?” 

“N-no, sir.” The Fenton in question answered quickly, cringing when his voice cracked. 

Mr. Lancer simply made skeptical, “Hmmph,” sound at the back of his throat before continuing; “As I was saying, this year Casper High’s most popular club, the ‘PhanClub’, chose the theme of this year’s school play, ‘The Musical –Danny Phantom’. Written, directed, and acted by Paulina Phantom.” Lancer squinted at the slip of paper in his hand, “I’m sure she meant Sanchez.”

The Latina teen stormed onto the stage with a toss of her long, dark hair, “As Mr. Lancer was so…vividly summing up, our drama class will be performing my musical, directed by none other than me.”

Danny sighed, resting his head back down on the auditorium table, “Wake me up when this hell’s over.” Tucker merely snorted at his friend’s dramatic tone, his ever-present PDA caressed fondly in his chocolate brown fingers.

“So today we’ll be holding casting trials for all the boys to see who has the looks, talents, and, most importantly, body, to pull off Danny Phantom!” One of the A-Listers, a blonde by the name of Star, swooned at Paulina’s words.

Dash shot out of his seat, his red letterman jacket flapping in his haste, “No need, I’m the perfect guy for the job.”

Danny and Tucker chuckled softly; Dash was a full two heads taller than Danny and of a totally different build. 

“All the boys will be auditioning, though I already have a pretty good idea of who’ll get the part,” Paulina smiled and winked at Dash, giving him a thumbs up.

“So subtle,” Tucker remarked dryly, not even bothering to glance up from his PDA.

Mr. Lancer pulled a black and white folder from the stage’s podium and held it aloft, “Here we have the complete character list and script. Don’t worry if you don’t get a spotlight part; we’ll need plenty of set designers and light technicians.”

At the word ‘tech’ Tucker snapped to attention, “I volunteer as tribute, Mr. Lancer!”

“Dork,” Dash snickered. Though from the cascade of giggles the comment spurred from the other A-Listers you’d think he’d actually said something intelligent.

“For the last time,” Paulina preached from the stage, “We’ll be assigning roles to once all the boys have been tried.”

“I’m black,” Tucker stated with a perfect poker face, “Last I checked DP was white.”

“Continue with that attitude and you’ll be joining young Fenton in detention, Mr. Foley.” Lancer gave him a pointed glare before asking, “Any other commentators?”

Nobody answered; it was best not to mess with Lancer when he was in one of his ‘moods’. 

“Then let’s get started!” Paulina screeched excitedly. As soon as the words were in the air a wisp of blue condensation slipped from Danny’s mouth. With a heavy sigh he raised his hand,

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

Mr. Lancer narrowed his eyes at the raven haired teen. “I don’t know, can you?”

The assembled student body withheld a groan. Nobody liked a wisecracking teacher.

“Please?” Danny asked wearily.

Lancer snapped a quick, “Fine.”

Danny took off, pushing the heavy auditorium doors open with a surprising show of strength. He slipped into the darkness of a nearby maintenance closet and muttered the familiar words, barely able to stand up straight, “Goin’ ghost.”

Two rings of pure light extended from his midsection, travelling over a simple white tee with jeans and leaving black and white in their place. Large white boots and gloves covered his hands and feet while a belt of the same hue encircled his waist. 

With a twitch of his mind, much like how an average person moved a finger, the boy was intangible, passing through Casper High’s few floors completely invisible.

He paused when he reached the roof, the green glow his eyes gave off lost in the bright afternoon sun. A voice accompanied by a flash of light sounded to his left, “Beware!” 

Danny Phantom smiled, his grip on the Fenton Thermos loosening; this would be a piece of cake.


	2. Audition?

There was a bright flash of light as the Fenton Thermos was activated, pulling the now battered and bruised Box Ghost inside. 

“This isn’t the last you’ll see of me,” The denim overall clad spectre shrieked as he vanished in a blue vortex. 

Danny, still in his Phantom form, didn’t even bother to reply. A yawn pulled at his mouth and he paused, allowing it to seize his features.

He didn’t want to go to class, but he’d already racked up one detention; no need for another. So it was with another heavy sigh that he floated back into the bleary lighting and odd colour schematics of Casper High.

As soon as Danny pushed the door open, once more in his baggy jeans and white/red tee shirt, a familiar voice screeched, “—Danny Phantom!"

Danny, having his second identity related heart attack of the day, glanced down quickly to see if he’d forgotten to change back. 

With a glance he saw that nope, he wasn’t Phantom.

His eyes found the stage and he let out a baited breath: Paulina was holding up an obviously DIY’d black and white hazmat suit, the boots comically large.

His eyes dropped to his own feet, they weren’t that big, right?

“If all the boy’s would line up over here,” Paulina gestured to the right of the stage, “We’ll get auditions started.”

Dash shouldered his way to the front, knocking an enthusiastic Mickey to the ground, “Outta my way, dweebs.”

Tucker sighed and made his way to the line, Danny right on his heels, “Why do we even have to audition? Dash’ll obviously get the part no matter what.” He shot his PDA a heartbroken stare, “I could be levelling up right now.”

“And I could be sleeping,” Danny muttered, literally dead on his feet.

Dash stood by Paulina and grabbed for the hazmat suit, only to have his hand smacked away by the Latina’s, “No!” The raven haired girl pulled it out of his reach, “You all must audition without the costume, that way I can see who can channel the Phantom’s essence.” 

Danny snorted, turning it into a cough when his nearby classmates turned towards him.

Dash took the stage, the large, yellow spotlight making his hair glow. He opened the script and blinked at it and read, “Perish, fiend!” In a failed attempt to make his voice lower, making it sound like he was gargling with marbles.

Paulina read the responding part, “Argh, Ghost Boy! Your witty banter is too much.” The watching class dissolved into heartless giggles at the pathetic script.

Dash broke into song and Danny had to hand it to him; the quarterback’s voice wasn’t half bad. Not great, but nowhere near as ear-splitting as Tucker’s. There was even a smattering of applause when he finished.

The line moved at a snail’s pace, each audition progressively worse than the last until Tucker went; he took the cake for absolute fudgery. His voice was so bad that a few of the hard-core choir kids shed actual tears.

Danny was last in line because of his encounter with the Box Ghost, his feet dragging towards the stage out of sheer exhaustion. He took the script from a skeptical Paulina and turned to face the watching crowd.

Had he been actually trying to get the part, all the eyes watching him would’ve been nerve wracking. As it was, he couldn’t care less about this stupid play. 

Danny simply opened his mouth and said in a bored voice, “Perish, fiend.” His voice even squeaked mid-sentence. 

Paulina blinked in surprise before speaking her own line. Danny glanced over the next part that he was supposed to sing only to gag at the cheese ball lyrics. There was no way he was going to speak, let alone sing, what was on the page.

“Mm, no,” He gave the script back to Paulina, tripping over Dash’s outstretched leg on his way back to Tucker.

The last twenty minutes of class were absolute torture as Paulina interviewed possible cast members for the role of Plasmius, or the ‘Wisconsin Ghost’ as the general public knew him.

When the bell finally rang Mr. Lancer’s drama class fled the auditorium in a mass exodus, full of tense excitement at the prospect of being one period closer to freedom.

Danny let himself be pulled forward by the wave of bodies knowing all too well that there was no release for him, only a very, very long wait in detention.


	3. Chosen

…oooOOO-PAULINA-OOOooo…

The next morning, minutes before Casper High’s first period bell went, Paulina Sanchez sat at a secluded lunch table. On the table in front of her sat a list of classmates who’d auditioned, in her hand a pen equipped with hot pink gel ink.

Large x’s scratched out all the names except for those of Dash Baxter and, surprisingly, Danny Fenton. 

The raven-haired teen wasn’t sure why she hadn’t crossed the loser out yet for the role of Danny Phantom; the boy hadn’t even finished his audition for crying out loud.

But there had been something about his voice when he read the script, something in the way it cracked over the words and sounded so utterly…exhausted.

Paulina closed her eyes and remembered the way the glaring spotlight had illuminated the youngest Fenton’s hair and, for less than a second, made it gleam a brilliant white.

For that single moment as his tired, done-with-this voice filled the auditorium, she could’ve sworn he was Phantom.

Paulina slowly opened her eyes, the pen moving almost of its own accord as she crossed off one of the names. 

She closed her bright red duo tang, fiddling with the chain of bedazzled paper clips that kept the papers in order before stuffing it into her carry on. Made of 100% designer leather, of course. 

The bell rang and Paulina stood, a smile twisting her features; she couldn’t wait till fourth period.

***

Danny waved a hurried goodbye to Sam and pushed the auditorium doors open. For once there hadn’t been a ghost attack at lunch and Danny had been able to spend some time with his friends, listen to their immortal veggies versus meat argument, and actually enjoy himself.

So it was with a smiling face and fresh mind that Danny walked into fourth period drama, ready to have his zest for life sucked out of him.

He was a few minutes late, his conversation with Sam taking priority over the ringing bell, but Danny Fenton missing class wasn’t exactly front page news; no one even gave him a second glance as he dropped his bag and sank into his seat, eyeing the stage distastefully. 

Lancer was in the middle of taking attendance only to get shoved aside by an impatient Paulina, “Pardon me, Mr. Lancer.”

Danny’s throat constricted nervously; Paulina was never polite. 

He began to full on panic when her icy blue eyes zeroed in on him, a sickly sweet smile morphing her usually chilled features.

The girl held up the script, “This morning I chose the actors for both the Wisconsin Ghost and Phantom. Today I’ll be choosing the roles for Danny Phantom’s two human friends; Bucker and Pam.”

Danny glanced at Tucker, surprised; those names cut a little too close to home.

One of the A-Listers shouted “Phantom doesn’t have human friends!” from the back of the class.

Paulina simply nodded, “No, I’m making up their characters so we can get more students into the play. And so I can have leading role as Pam, of course.”

“Of course,” Tucker muttered, “She couldn’t just settle for three parts, she had to go the whole nine yards.”

Danny nodded, “She couldn’t just ruin her play from the outside; she’s gotta destroy it from within, too.”

“Last but not least, I’ll be assigning the role of Red Huntress,” Paulina’s lips curled in disgust at the mere mention of the girl’s name. The Latina had issues with the jet sled riding ghost hunter ever since she’d first chosen Danny Phantom as a target.

Out of the corner of his eye Danny saw Valerie freeze, her muscles readying themselves for a fight. Her reaction made him wonder absently if all vigilantes were shocked when they heard their alter egos name out of costume. He certainly had been yesterday.

Dash, who was losing what little there was left of his already whip-thin patience, shouted, “Who got the part, Sanchez?”

Paulina’s eyes glimmered; she’d probably been waiting for just such a reaction. In her books, the more drama the better.

Danny didn’t know why she was so obviously dragging it out, besides the drama factor. Dash was the only logical candidate for the role of Danny Phantom, even if he looked, acted, and sounded nothing like the ghost boy.

“The person playing the Wisconsin Ghost is Kwan,” There was some half-hearted applause as the jock stood, a huge smile on his face. Danny stared at him distastefully; who in their right mind would want to be Plazmius? 

Paulina continued, her voice rising above the bored hubbub of the crowded auditorium, “And the perfect actor for Danny Phantom is,” All eyes turned to Dash except Paulina’s, which were staring straight at Danny.

No, the young Fenton thought as a horrifying suspicion slithered into the back of his mind, She didn’t…

“Danny Fenton!”

Thanks for reading!   
Please tell me if there's any obvious mistakes; I don't always catch anything during editing :)  
Till next time,  
~ASL


	4. Suspicion

Danny gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, then followed it with a bout of savage curses (Sam had taught him well).

This couldn’t be happening, as soon as anyone saw him in that suit they’d put two and two together. The whole student body of Casper High would know, then his parents, then the GIW; he was a half-dead man walking.

Tucker gave his friend an odd look; he knew how Danny hated swearing. Not even during his most vile ghost fights did the young teen utter profanities, “She wants you on stage, man.” 

Danny clutched the strap on his backpack so hard his knuckles turned white, “But what if they--”

“Just play it cool and no one will know. Don’t give them any reason to suspect you.” Tucker’s gaze softened when he saw his friend’s trembling hands, “Try and get the part switched to Dash. Tell her you have, like, stage fright or something.”

Danny nodded, rising slowly to his feet; this was exactly what he’d worked so hard to avoid. He’d tried too hard and sacrificed too much for his secret.

He breathed deeply in through his nose, straightening his shoulders slowly; he wasn’t going to expose himself now.

He could feel the eyes of the entire class on him as he made his way to the front. Paulina stood on stage, piercing him with her gaze. How had he once had a crush on this girl? She was horrifying.

Kwan already stood at her side so Danny simply stood next to him, trying to control his breathing. Paulina was saying something, her lips moving rhythmically.

Danny shook his head, trying to clear it. He felt like a drowning swimmer; trapped and suffocating. He could feel the cold radiating off of him as it often did that when he was stressed or nervous.

One time during a particularly brutal poetry quiz (thanks, Mr. Lancer) he’d accidentally frozen the water in his classmate’s water bottles, shooting ice shards everywhere. Luckily they’d simply passed it off as another freaky aspect to Amity Park, not even noticing that Fenton was the only one left completely dry.

The memory served as a constant reminder to Danny that he couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him; he had to keep them in check at all times. Which was especially hard around a certain goth, ultra recylo-vegeterian friend of his.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw an orange blur moving frantically and squinted to see what it was, Tucker had gotten to his feet and was motioning hurriedly at his own face, specifically his eyes…

Danny’s heart practically stopped. 

Not only did he become a human air conditioner when experiencing extreme emotions, his eyes would sometimes flicker bright, neon green.

He quickly squeezed them shut and tried to relax by taking deep, calming breaths. His heart rate soon slowed to a normal pace, or whatever passed for normal in Amity Park.

Once he was sure his emotions were under control, not controlling him, he opened his eyes. Tucker didn’t mime anything, so he assumed the ghostly glow was gone.

Paulina was still speaking and now that he was steady he could actually hear her words, “So, would the girls please line up on my left for the Red Huntress auditions.” 

“What if we want to play Pam?” A girl squeaked from the back of the class.

The Latina simply smiled, “I’ll be playing Pam, no questions asked.”

Danny let out a relieved sigh; it seemed like no one had seen his mishap. He’d learned over the years that his classmates were unobservant to the extreme. Heck, the whole town had to blind not to have noticed the stark physical similarities between Fenton and Phantom.

Maybe, if he was lucky, his little mistake had gone unseen.

…ooO-DASH-Ooo…

It had already been made painfully clear that Danny Fenton was, in no way, lucky. 

So why, Dash Baxter thought with a growl, was he getting the part?

That was Dash’s part, Dash’s victory. It belonged to him.

The jock’s blood boiled as the youngest Fenton stood, an oddly flustered expression on his face. Though before he did so, Dash was sure he heard him swear. Which, in itself, was odd; the kid never swore, not even when being stuffed into a locker. Now he apparently had the mouth of a forty-five year old backwoods trucker.

What did he have that Dash couldn’t top? Looks? Check. Charisma? Double Check. A humble disposition? Close enough.

Fenton didn’t even look happy to be getting Dash’s dream part, the golden role of Phantom. 

Dash had wanted to show his appreciation for the hundreds of times Danny Phantom had saved the city and let him know that not everyone hated the ghost boy. A lot did, like the crazy Fenton family, but a few recognized him for his efforts.

Not to mention how hot he would look in the suit. Dash stroked his bicep, now he’d never get another chance.

He watched Danny climb the stage stairs, dressed in his usual dweeb attire. Though, upon closer inspection, there was something decidedly wrong with the boy’s face.

Dash didn’t spend any more time than was humanly possible looking at the youngest Fenton but he’d seen enough to recognize when something was off, and something was definitely off.

He looked terrified, his eyes wide with fear and his hands trembling as he took his place next to Kwan. Paulina started to speak but Dash wasn’t paying any attention to her, instead he was staring in slack-jawed horror at Danny.

More specifically, his eyes.

Where they were usually a solid, pigmy blue, they were now glowing fluorescent green. It was such an electric colour that it lit the boy’s face for a second, revealing a light spray of greenish freckles. 

Again, he’d never been that close to Danny’s face, but Dash was pretty sure he would have noticed if the guy had glowing freckles.

In his peripheral vision Dash saw none other than Tucker Folly jumping madly up and down, his hands gesturing wildly at his own face.

No one else gave the techno-geek a second glance (they already knew he was crazy) except for the boy on stage.

Danny, after catching sight of his friend, suddenly closed his eyes, squeezing them so hard visible wrinkles formed in the corners. 

Dash blinked, looking between Fenton and Folly then back again in shocked surprise.

What the…

Whatever had just happened was definitely not normal. There was a secret here; a big, juicy, explosive one. Dash could smell it.

The jock settled back into his seat with a smile, hopefully a secret that, once exposed, could be enough to get Danny Fenton and his loser friends expelled.

Dash’s eyes strayed to Paulina, who was now talking about the Red Huntress auditions, his smile widening. 

And he knew just the girl for the job.

A little bit of Dash's thought process. I'm hoping to bring out the A-Listers in this Fic; I feel like there's a lot of untapped potential in them. Any ideas?  
Thanks for reading, I'd love to hear if you've got any questions/theories/or advice (especiallyadviceohmygoodnessIdon'tknowwhatI'mdoing)  
~ASL


	5. Speculations

To say Paulina wasn't happy would be a gross understatement; Paulina was furious. Where was that strange version of Fenton she'd seen yesterday? The bored, awkward, charming one?

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Danny simply stood next to Kwan, his eyes squeezed shut. Now he was just...awkward.

Paulina thought she'd found the perfect Phantom, but now she wasn't so sure. 

The girls started lining at the side of the stage as she brooded, the sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat jolting her from her thoughts.

She whipped her head around to see none other than Danny Fenton, the source of her current headache, now standing before her.

He'd grown since their freshman year as he now had a couple inches on her. The boy had also filled out quite nicely, though his strange, baggy attire hid that fact from the casual viewer. 

Paulina eyed him up and down; there was some serious muscle on this kid judging by the way he carried himself. He was still scrawny as heck, nothing special compared to Dash, but...with the right clothes...

"Hello?" His voice interrupted her quiet speculation, "Paulina?"

"Sanchez to you, dweeb," She snapped automatically.

Danny looked unfazed by her biting tone, "Sanchez?" He re-phrased politely, "I was asking you a question."

"Oh," The Latina hid an embarrassed flush by glancing at the script in her hand, "Make it quick; I'm a busy woman."

"I'm sure you are," He remarked, causing her to look up at him sharply in an attempt to detect sarcasm, when she was unable to she simply said,

"What do you want?"

"For Dash to get the part of Danny Phantom," The boy looked at his hands. "I have, uh, stage fright."

Paulina put a hand on her hip, which in the presence of most boys meant she was trying to be provocative. With Fenton, it meant she was annoyed, "Didn't seem like you had stage fright yesterday."

"That's 'cause I thought Dash was going to get the part; I didn't care enough to be nervous," He answered quickly, too quickly...

"Well you have it now; you're just going to have to deal with it." She decided to try a more gracious approach, "Stage fright isn't even that bad once your lines are memorized."

He scratched the back of his neck as some kind of nervous tick, "Look, I can't be Phantom. You gotta trust me on this." He was almost pleading with her now, his voice frayed desperately. 

What was this kid's problem? 

"A lot of people would kill to be in your place right now, can't you just be happy?"

He narrowed his blue eyes at her and for a second Paulina saw not the usual summer pools but deep, icy trenches perfectly capable of swallowing her whole. "Change. The. Part."

There! Right there! That was the Danny on stage yesterday, the one she needed to act as her Phantom. The perfect one. She hid her glee behind a mask of detached boredom,

"No, argue all you want but Lancer put me in charge. Unless you give me a legitimate reason, you're Phantom."

"I told you already, I have stage fright."

Paulina had to admit the kid had a pretty good poker face, nothing like the lying mess he was first year, but she'd spent enough time around the backstabbing A-Listers to not recognize when someone was lying.

And Fenton was definitely lying.

"I guess you're staying as Phantom then," She said with a sigh, turning back to her clipboard with an air of apathy.

She peeked at him through her curtain of hair and saw him clenching his fists while breathing in deeply through his nose, an angry colour creeping up his cheeks.

After a minute of him trying to reign in his temper he finally spoke, "I guess I am." His tone was even and clipped, but Paulina could detect the faint frustration still lingering in it.

As he left she shuffled her mind to other matters, mainly that of the assembled girls. She noted with a high degree of displeasure that Valerie was among their number; did that quack actually believe she could score the role of Red Huntress? What a joke.

As she scanned the girls her attention was drawn to that of a certain blond jock, who was obnoxiously trying to catch her eye. Baxter lifted a hand and signalled their old code; you, me, broom closet. 

Paulina sighed, wondering what on earth he wanted to talk to her about as their make out days were long over. They were old news. Now she only had it in for Phantom.

Her heart fluttered at the mere thought of his name, the simple image of his deep green eyes......Sure, she'd never actually been close enough to gaze into those aforementioned irises, but soon her plan would pay off.

With her mind full of Phantom fantasies, she decided to meet with Dash and give him the hundredth 'it's not you, it's me' speech for what felt like the three hundredth time.

Maybe this time it'd finally sink through his thick skull that she was reserved for someone else.

...oooOOO-DASH-OOOooo…

Dash was waiting in the broom closet after fourth period, his heart pounding excitedly. Paulina and he used to meet here before they both decided to end...whatever it was they had going. Dash was too committed to a future football scholarship and Paulina insisted her heart belonged to the ghost boy.

He felt a little silly squatting in the darkness, choked by the stagnant scent of cleaning chemicals, but he tried to stay patient.

Luckily, as Dash Baxter was notorious for his poor waiting skills, the door soon opened and a lithe shadow made its way inside. Dash could tell from what little of her tense form was illuminated that she was ticked off, the set of her hips as she tossed her hair over her shoulder, the quirk of her eyebrow, he could read her like an open book.

Albeit a picture book; Dash had never been particularly good with novels.

"Whaddya want, Dash?" She asked harshly, the door closing behind her with a soft thud, "I thought I'd made it clear that we were over."

"I know, this is about something else. Something you'll find very interesting."

"Oh yeah? There's nothing in this school I don't already know about, Baxter. Bring it on."

"I think Fentoenail is doing steroids."

Evidently that wasn't the tea Paulina had been expecting as it took her to the count of forty to respond, "You...what?"

"When he was on stage just now I noticed that he seemed really out of it, like something was really off." Dash recalled the boy's panicked movements, "Seemed like he was on a little product, if you know what I mean."

Paulina didn't look convinced, "He's always acting odd. Why are you even surprised?"

"His eyes were glowing," Dash said simply, a frown twisting his features. "Saw it myself; bright, neon green eyes. Foley's gotta be in on it too, gave his friend a warning."

"That can't be steroids, stupid." Dash could tell she was thinking hard from the way she chewed her bottom lip. He had to look away, his throat constricting; if he kept his eyes on her he'd end up wanting her all over again.

She continued to speak, her voice thick with contemplation, "Maybe a new type of drug, but not steroids. He has no motive for steroids. I mean, he's not on any sports teams, doesn't even try in gym class. He doesn't seem like the druggy brand, either."

"Could be that you've just never seen him. He's probably hitting it up in the bathroom whenever he leaves class."

"He comes across as a good student, though" Paulina muttered, "Thought he wanted to be, like, a space nerd or something."

Dash nodded, "Kid used to get great grades at the beginning of first year; I should know, I used to take his work all the time. It didn't last long, however. I still remember trying to submit his essay as my own to Mr. Lancer and it got a D, I gave him the worst beating of his li--"

"Really?" Paulina interrupted, "Do you know when he started flopping?"

"End of first semester," Dash said after a moment’s contemplation. If he remembered correctly, that's when he last tried to pass off the dweebs works as his own. For some reason the time seemed familiar, like it was supposed to be memorable in some way.

"And you say he's absent a lot?"

"Well, yeah. Doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's not going to the bathroom for thirty minutes straight," Dash had to withhold his snort; of course she'd never noticed. She was much too wrapped up in her own business to recognize the time of day, let alone Fenton's spotty attendance.

Her voice disturbed his bitter thoughts, "Why are you so interested in him anyway? Got a thing for him?"

"A thing for Fenton? Gosh, no." He shook his head emphatically, "I just want him expelled so I can take his place in the school play." He saw the Latina's eyes narrow in the semi-darkness as she took a threatening step towards them. 

"You're trying to ruin my school play?" 

His heart rate quickened nervously at her words, "No, of course not. I just thought I'd be a better Phantom than that loser."

"I chose that loser over you so I suggest you pretend you didn't see whatever it is you think you saw. I've found the perfect person to play my Phantom and I won't have you ruin that over your bruised ego.

Dash simply nodded, wincing away from the pure control she was emitting through every pore. Talk about a short fuse.

"Good," She said softly just as the bell for fifth period went, "Now I have to go, remember; leave this be till the plays over. Once it is, gossip about Fenton all you want, but if I hear so much as a peep out of you one second before the final curtain drops, consider your social life destroyed."

His throat constricted again, this time for a very different reason, "Of course, Paulie." How had he used to date this girl? She was a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

"And don't call me that," She said before slamming the closet door closed, the jarring thud reverberating in Dash's mind long after she was gone.

With a determined set of his shoulders he knew that he wouldn't be listening to Paulina. She may be scary and have the whole school on her side, but he was going to get to the root of this whole Fenton situation with, or without, her help. 

Dash strode out of the closet, gaining a few intrigued looks from some nearby students, and made his way towards his next class. 

Fenturd was going down.

Had Dash stayed in the closet another minute, he would have seen a young halfa slip through the walls and become encased by a ring of light. Standing in the ghost boy's place Dash would have seen his newly recognized rival, Danny Fenton.

Unfortunately, the only witnesses to Phantom's transformation were the empty spray bottles and used mops of the maintenance closet.

So, any big mistakes? I think I caught 'em all, but some probably slipped through my editing.  
We haven't heard from Danny himself in awhile, so count on the next chapter being from his perspective :)  
Thanks for reading, and stay safe out there!  
~ASL


	6. Theories

…oooOOO-DANNY-OOOooo…

The following day Danny wasn’t late for school, which was of itself a miracle of the highest order. 

His first period teacher looked just as surprised as the youngest Fenton felt when he walked into class before the late bell. 

All throughout the lesson he kept expecting his ghost sense to go off, but it was pleasantly silent; almost too silent. He texted Tucker, hiding his phone behind his open textbook, informing his friend of the strange lack in ghostly activity:

T MAN: Maybe they giving u a day off idk

Was the instant reply, to which Danny could barely contain his doubtful snort. Sure he might be on better terms with some of the inhabitants of the Ghost Zone, but most still considered him a vile adversary.

With a sigh realized he was overthinking this, if Sam were here she would tell him he was being paranoid. As always, she would probably be right. 

He doodled absentmindedly in the margins of his notepad and got the odd feeling that someone was watching him. Danny was never sure if other people experienced this sensation or if it was just a bizarre aspect of his ghostly abilities.

Whatever it was, it was pinging like crazy and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He turned his head, trying to make the motion look natural as possible, in the direction of the stare and made direct eye contact with none other than Dash Baxter.

He expected the star quarterback to flip him off or give a signature Baxter sneer but, to his surprise, the other teen simply flushed like he’d been caught in the middle of something illegal.

Danny blinked at him in confusion before quickly turning back to his textbook with a frown. What was that all about? And what were these weird vibes he was getting?

Period two, which he also shared with Dash, was just as weird. The blond sat in the seat directly behind Danny and the Fenton could feel his stare on the back of his head for the entire class. Feeling extremely disturbed, he wondered apprehensively if he’d done something to tick the bully off, but couldn’t think of anything outright. 

It was more than likely that Danny had somehow managed to indirectly insult Dash, especially considering how the football player was notorious for getting offended over simple things, like a freshman’s squeaky shoes or new haircut. 

Suddenly wanting to get out of there before Baxter could try anything, images of gum covered hair haunting his mind, he raised his hand to go to the bathroom.

The teacher sighed and didn’t even bother glancing up before muttering, “You may go, Fenton. I’d tell you to be back in five but we both know that’s not going to happen.”

Danny left the hall pass hanging on the hook and threw the door open a little more aggressively then was probably necessary, before it closed behind him he saw another hand raised and a familiar voice say, “I, uh, have to go the bathroom, too.”

Danny had to control his pace as he headed to the main floor washroom; he wanted to sprint the heck out of there but instead took his time, even pretending to glance at one of those ever changing school noticeboards.

Behind him he could just make out hesitant footfalls on tile, like whoever was there was trying (and failing) to be quiet. Danny, finally having enough of the suspense, turned sharply and saw a letterman jacket toting blur dive behind a trash can, a forgotten notebook falling to the floor of the open hall.

The youngest Fenton wasn’t entirely sure what to do with this information; was Dash stalking him? 

Pretending he hadn’t seen the hundred and fifty pounds of flying Dash leap across the hallway, he calmly strode over and scooped up the blue spiral book. 

After glancing around as if waiting for the owner to step forward, he flipped it open casually. The first few pages were covered in rough doodles and faulty mathematic notes.  
Danny was no genius, but he was pretty sure five times six to the power of three didn’t equal ‘IDK’. 

About halfway through, however, he found a very different set of scribbles. They were extremely messy, obviously written in haste, but Danny could make out a schedule…one that looked extremely familiar. 

It depicted, in detail, his every move since the first period bell that morning up till his most recent trip to the bathroom.

What the…..what the heck was going on?

Danny set the notebook on a nearby ledge while trying to keep his current confusion off his face and continued his journey towards the bathroom, all too aware of the quarterback shadow following him. 

The rest of second period was the same: that constant feeling of being watched, the weird eye contact, and the stalking if Danny ever left the classroom. 

The ghosts were also still being suspiciously silent, not a single peep out of any. Not even the seemingly ever present Box Ghost was around to cause trouble. 

Unfortunately, he was too distracted by Dash and his shenanigans to dwell deeply on it; by the time lunch came around the ghostly issue was lodged firmly at the back of his mind.  
He sat between Tucker, who was eating a double meat burrito, and Sam, who was chowing down on a veggie burger. 

Danny liked to think he was the neutral medium of his friend’s to extremes, hence his balanced meat and vegetable sandwich. 

As he took a bite, relishing the fact that he could take his sweet time without worrying about a spectre popping out of the wall, he raised his eyes from the oddly coloured pastel lunch table and choked in surprise.

Sitting one table in front of him was a lone figure with a heavy black jacket and hood concealing them. The hood effectively threw the person’s face into shadow, but Danny could see from the familiar spiral notebook it had in hand that the stranger was none other than Baxter.

Quickly glancing down he poked Tucker’s side with a finger and nudged Sam under the table with his sneaker. The two immediately stopped eating and turned towards him, giving him their full attention.

“Who is it?” Same asked softly, her amethyst eyes scanning the cafeteria for the ghost who dared interrupt Phantom’s meal.

“Not any of my ‘friends’,” Danny said, matching the Goth’s low tone. He didn’t think any of his schoolmates were listening in, but he used code just to be safe. “This has nothing to do with my ‘extracurricular activities’.”

“Good,” Tucker muttered around a mouthful of food. “This burrito is heaven on earth; I couldn’t bear to leave her alone.” He cast his lunch a fond look before taking another bite, the previous one still not swallowed.

“What about the animals that died to make your precious wrap, hmm? Ever think about them, you self-absorbed--" 

Danny quickly interrupted before the two could get riled up again; he knew there was no real animosity behind their constant bickering and name calling but he didn’t want to chance another brawl. Or worse, a school wide protest.

“Dash has been creeping me all day.” Two sets of eyes turned to look at him incredulously when he spoke, then at the shadowed form at the table across from them. “Don’t stare at him! Jeez, guys, practice some subtlety.”

“By ‘creeping’ I’m guessing you mean…stalking?” Tucker inquired softly, his perfect burrito forgotten. Obviously he considered this big news if he was willing to forego his lover, otherwise known as food, for the conversation.

Danny shook his head adamantly, “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s just been following me to the bathroom and cataloguing my every move, I don’t think that qualifies as stalking.”

Sam sighed and crossed her arms, which to anyone else would look like an intimidation tactic, but her friends recognized it as her thinking posture. “Danny, that’s like literally the definition of stalking.” Her contemplative scowl deepened, “I think you should probably come to terms with the fact that Dash might be on to your secr--"

Tucker suddenly gasped, cutting Sam’s pearl of wisdom off abruptly, “He likes you, man. Like like likes you.” The techno geek punched Danny in the arm, “You made Baxter gay!”

Danny, the de-straightener in question, sputtered loudly. “What? No, Dash is…Dash; he would never like me. The guy's bullied me since grade school, why would he suddenly--”

“That’s the leading evidence,” Tucker proclaimed loudly, barely managing to conceal the excitement in his tone. “He’s never hated you, the poor guys just never known how to make a move. Interacting in the only way he knows how, touching you in the only way he knows how,” The boy swooned dramatically, “It was love at first punch.”

Sam snorted, “You’ve been watching too many teen flicks. No offense, Danny, but he probably doesn’t like you.”

“None taken,” The ghost boy muttered, trying to ignore the looks the occupants of the other lunch tables were giving Tucker. “I’m with Sam on this one.” His gaze strayed apprehensively towards the quarterback and found Dash’s stare still pinned on him, “Besides, I’m definitely into girls.”

Danny caught a brief look of relief flash across Sam’s face before it quickly fell back into its usual passive mask. Wait, Danny thought, did she like Dash?

He was broken out of his misguided musings by Tucker’s warbled tone, the boy already mid-sentence in his haste, “—Explains everything. The guy’s head over heels for you.”  
“You need to stop reading fanfics, it’s ruining your perception of reality,” Sam pointed accusingly at the darker male, “Just yesterday you told me Mr. Faulkner and his substitute were having a fling.”

“Well, they could be!” Tucker protested weakly, his cheeks a flaming red. That little misunderstanding had been one of his less than golden moments.

“Dude,” Sam face palmed, “They’re father and son.”

As the two began to bicker again Danny felt the telltale prickle, one that was becoming all too familiar, that meant Dash’s eyes were on him, “Maybe you’re right, Tuck.” His voice was hesitant, “What do I do?”

“Do?” Sam snorted again, “You don’t need to do anything. Let him live out his fantasies but turn him down if he asks, try and be nice about it.” Her voice lost its edge, “Having an oblivious crush is one of the worst feelings in the world.”

The youngest Fenton blinked in surprise at the raw tone of her voice, it sounded almost like she was talking from experience. But who could she like that ignored her back? His mind strayed once more to Dash and he felt his heart constrict.

Could she really like him? The thought of Sam liking someone sent an odd pang throughout his entire being, one that he couldn’t even begin to understand. 

With a resigned sigh he shoved the feelings aside; there were more pressing matters on hand than his hormones. 

Besides, it was probably just his core acting up.

Tucker’s already gargantuan smile widened considerably, “Now that that’s all out of the way, let’s eat!” He began to raise his neglected burrito to his face but was interrupted by the plume of familiar blue condensation abruptly shooting out of his friend’s lips. 

“Ah, man. I knew it was too good to be true.” With a sigh Danny rose from his seat, frowning as his two best friends made to follow. “You guys can stay put, I’ll handle it alone.”  
“You sure?” Sam asked, shooting Tucker a concerned look. 

Tuck just shrugged in return, “If you’re sure, then all the power too ya. We’ll come running to help at a seconds notice, got it?”

“Thanks guys, make sure Dash doesn’t follow me.” Before Danny exited the nearest door he waved a quick goodbye and called, “See you in fourth, Tuck,” Before disappearing from view.

Once Danny had made sure his usual broom closet was empty he stretched slowly, his catchphrase on the tip of his tongue, 

“Goin’ ghost.”

…oooOOO-SAM-OOOooo…

Sam was worried.

Again.

She’d been worried a lot since first year when Danny had gotten his powers as neither Tucker nor Phantom had any concern for their safety, meaning the role of protective mother hen fell to her.

The Goth bit into her lunch and watched the minutes tick by, her worry steadily mounting with each movement of the clock. Even though Danny was probably fine her heart still pounded every second he was out there without back up.

She tried to calm herself; after all, the guy was equipped with ghost powers and had taken down more stray spirits than she cared to count. What could possibly happen?

Her nails bit into her palms as she struggled to breath, he would be fine.

Trying to shift her concern, she saw that Dash still hadn’t moved from his spot at the other lunch table. Sam didn’t think the raging emotion in the quarterback’s eyes when he looked at her best friend was love, more like barely concealed anger.

However, there was no changing Tucker’s mind when it was made up, or Danny’s for that matter. She would just have to wait to say ‘I told you so’. Until then, she was determined to keep an eye on the jock.

The bell signifying the end of lunch sounded, causing her heart to beat double time; why wasn’t he back by now?

She waved a quick goodbye to Tucker and made her way to the school’s math wing for her next class, taught by a bearded and utterly uninterested teacher named Mr. Koi. Behind his back the students, and even some of the staff, had dubbed him Mr. Killjoy.

Once seated Sam checked and re-checked her phone for messages from Danny. She even shot Tucker a few texts since Danny and he shared fourth period, but was met with no success. 

Too worried to pay attention she began scribbling Phantom’s insignia on the top corner of her notebook, much like she had last year when first coming up with the design. Now, however, her lines were crooked and wobbled as she squeezed the pencil in a death grip. 

Only fifteen minutes into class and it felt like hours had flown by in her frenzied state; how had she ever agreed to let him go by himself? Why had she ever agreed? 

The small, faux wooden desk vibrated as she received a text. Barely managing to withhold her shriek, she snatched the device up and glared at the screen.

It was Danny.

Her heart slowed exponentially; he always texted her when he returned from a mission to let her know he was okay. Her fingers no longer shaking, she pulled the instant messenger app up on her phone and clicked on Danny’s contact, one he’d input himself when she’d first gotten a smartphone.

DAN THE MAN: Bleeding. Garden Shed. Halp?

For the count of ten Sam was frozen, unable to move because of the sickening fear seizing her entire body. With an audible grunt she snapped herself out of it and flew out of the room, her backpack still hanging on the chair behind her. 

The faces of her fellow classmates blurred as she ran past, the sound of her shoes hitting the tile and her heart pounding sounded like thunder in her ears.

“Samantha Manson! Where do you think you’re--” The door slammed behind her, cutting off the beginning of Mr. Koi’s angry tirade. 

Sam didn’t even stop to grab a jacket from her locker before sprinting out the school’s side door. 

As the cold winter air bit at her nose the only thought on her mind was that Danny, her best friend, was hurt.

She just prayed she could reach him in time.

Poor Danny; why do I make him suffer so? Fair warning, this story's going to be somewhat angsty. Sorry if that's not your cup o' tea.  
Catch any mistakes? Have any questions? ADVICE?? Let me know! I love hearing from fellow readers :)  
Thanks,   
~ASL


	7. Depths

…oooOOO-SAM-OOOooo…

(This chapter has some mild medical descriptions which, though wildly inaccurate, are a little graphic. Consider yourself warned)

The frigid air tugged at Sam’s ebony hair as she raced across the field to the edge of the school grounds. In any other circumstance she would have attempted a little more stealth, but not today; today Danny was injured, possibly even dying.

The ghost fighting trio had made a previous agreement that if they were ever hurt at school they would go to the abandoned Casper High garden shed. The small shack had been left to rot alone ever since the school’s Nature Committee had been absolved due to an argument over soil pH.

Now it sat empty and decrepit, looking every bit like a haunted shack. 

Which, with Danny in it, Sam supposed it was.

The lock hung broken on a rusty hinge and Sam recalled how pleased Danny had been when he’d frozen it off after discovering his ice powers last year. He’d tried to hide it, but the proud smirk hadn’t left his face for the rest of the day.

She pushed the thought of his brilliant blue eyes out of her mind and threw the lock to the ground with a clang, her numb fingers barely managing to curl around the handle as she yanked the door open. Once closed behind her the small interior was thrown into darkness, a grimy window in one of the walls doing little to illuminate her surroundings. 

It was because of the stifling gloom that she didn’t see the small mound in the corner that was her best friend,

“Danny!” She cried when she finally spotted his limp form, the first aid kit they kept under a mangled flowerpot already in her hand, “If you’re dead I’m so going to kill you.” Usually she’d try to avoid such cliché language, but the panic fraying her mind was overwhelming her every thought.

Two small, glowing orbs blinked into existence at the sound of her voice, “Sam?” Danny’s voice croaked from the darkness. With the light emanating from his now open eyes she was able to make out his ghostly white hair, each strand falling into place the same way as Danny’s usual black mop.

She was at his side seconds, “It’s just me, you can switch back.”

Without warning the room was suddenly awash in a white glow as Phantom receded, Fenton taking his place. Sam winced at the transformation’s lack of radiance; though still bright, it was a mere candle in comparison to the usual light produced.

With her eyes now adjusted she pressed a hand to Danny’s forehead, noting with sense of mounting dread that it was warm. Much too warm for that of an ecto entity’s.

“Hey,” He slurred softly, his once more blue eyes finding hers in the darkness. “I’m already healing, no need to freak out.”

Sam realized with a hint of revulsion that she was acting like a ditzy damsel; turning into an emotional wreck and seeking assurance from the one suffering at the first sign of danger.

She set her shoulders, straightening her back as she did, “Where are you hurt?”

“B-burn on the stomach, but I c-can… already feel it healing. I’d say the stab wound in the shoulder is top-p, top-p priority.”

Sam nodded and unzipped his sweater, doing her best to ignore the blood that immediately soaked her hands. She snatched a pair of surgical scissors from the first aid kit and cut his signature white and red T-shirt up the middle, exposing his torso to the cold.

His stomach was darkened with blood but she paid it no heed, instead focusing on the large hole in his right shoulder. Whatever projectile caused this had barely missed the joint. “Light,” She demanded, a pair of medical tweezers in hand.

Danny charged his hand and a dim glow filled the room once more, bathing it with ghostly green light. With the tweezers she gently probed the wound, searching for anything that could still be inside. If it wasn’t healing that usually meant whatever caused it was lodged within. 

There was a small tink of metal on metal as the tweezers touched something and she latched onto it, yanking the offending object out with a grunt, blood colouring the icy air.  
As soon as it left his body Danny gave a small, unmanly squeak and the light in his hand flickered dangerously.

“Come on, nightlight, don’t quit on me now,” She tried to keep the anxiety out of her tone as she placed the glowing arrowhead on the floor, unsure if the projectile itself was producing the glow or if the sheen was a result of it being covered in Danny’s red-green blood.

He continued to keep his fist alight even if it was getting increasingly dimmer; he wouldn’t be able to sustain it for much longer.

She’d just have to work even faster to stitch the wound. 

Each time the sterilized needle pierced his flesh she could feel him flinch underneath her, and each time she tugged the broken skin together the glow in his palm would lose a little more of its lustre.

After an agonizing couple of minutes she let out a relieved sigh and tied the thread off, her blood covered hand resting on his cheek. 

At her touch the boy opened his eyes again and a weak smile, more of a grimace really, twisted his features, “See? N-nothin’ I couldn’t handle.” His voice was low, barely audible despite the looming silence.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Sam said dryly, though she knew he heard the tenderness in her tone by the way his eyes twinkled. It was only when the Fenton gave a muted groan that the moment between them passed and she was pulled back to the dire situation at hand.

There was a large burn mark covering the entirety of his lower abdomen, charred skin crawling as his healing powers worked away at it. This one simply needed a good cleaning and a bandage, which Sam supplied gladly.

With the paper white wrap in place she turned her attention back to his face, “Anything else I should know about?” 

He hesitated before answering, “Cut above my eye, one on my arm, bruises everywhere else.” He sagged slightly as his next words left his mouth, “Maybe stitches?”

Sam acted on his descriptions with a hint of pride at how easily he’d given them; this time last year he’d always keep up the ‘I’m fine’ charade until he collapsed from the pain. She suspected he was still hiding injuries occasionally, but she’d have to worry about that later.

She applied antiseptic to the cut on his arm gently, mentally taking stock of all the medical supplies she’d have to purchase in order to fill up the first aid kit. Once finished she pulled the torn remains of the shirt off his body and stashed them in a forgotten flower pot in the corner.

His bloody sweater would have to do until they got back to his house, “Next?” Sam asked softly, being extra careful zipping it up. The last thing she wanted was to snag one of his bandages and aggravate his wounds even more. 

“Maybe, if you have time, well, I guess, if you want to. What I mean is, if you could--”

“Danny, you’re rambling.

An adorable pink blush shadowed his cheeks, making the light dusting of freckles stand out. Few people knew the youngest of the Fenton family had freckles as they rarely ever showed; even in his Phantom form they were simply a subtle glowing green. Like a spattering of stardust.

Sam was broken out of her musings by Danny’s concerned, “Sam?’

“Oh, what were you saying?” 

“If you could, er, look at that cut above my eye, I think everything else will heal fine on its own.” Though his healing powers were much stronger in his Phantom form, so were his injuries; a simple scratch would bleed like a stab wound. 

“Of course, stupid. Do you really have to ask?” 

He grinned sheepishly at her words, lifting his head towards her to make things easier.

Sam didn’t even want to imagine what the burn mark looked like before he reverted back to his undead persona. In human form injuries would take days, sometimes even weeks to heal, and that was if he prioritized his personal care, things like sleep and food. 

Something Danny was absolutely horrible at.

As she pushed his hair back out of his eyes a large gash just above his right eyebrow was revealed, the blood matting his hair and dripping into his eye. Sam quickly set about cleansing and stitching it gently.

When finished she sat with one hand pressed against his head, the other still twisted in his hair. His usually clear blue eyes had lost their shine because of the pain, she could barely make out her reflection in their depths.

“Thank you,” He whispered wobbly. 

Her heart began dancing a wild rhythm; was he feeling this tension too, or was it completely one sided? She felt her body go cold as his breath brushed against her skin. In the angst-y romances she’d read (which she would deny vehemently if ever questioned) there’d only ever been descriptions of hot emotions making lovers actions shaky and extreme.  
But what she was feeling now wasn’t fiery passion, more like an icy radiance filling ever part of her being. In that moment she didn’t want Danny; she didn’t need the youngest Fenton. Sam simply wanted to stand beside him forever, to hold him when he was sick and heal him when he was hurt. 

With a pang of something akin to fear she realized this was more than a crush; this was love. Not the fairy tale kind, but the deep-rooted variety that lasted through sickness and health, even after death did them part.

She gasped slightly at this revelation as the usual control she had over her emotions flew the coop, leaving her a hormonal mess.

Danny seemed to be moving forward, or was it just her warped, lovesick perspective playing tricks on her?

Nope, he was definitely getting closer as she saw his mouth part slightly and shadows conceal his eyes as the light in his palm dimmed.

Her breaths quickened as she too leaned forward, their faces now inches apart. Without thinking her free hand, the one not currently tangled in his coal black hair, pressed itself to his chest.

With their lips a hairsbreadth from touching, the new placement of her hand made him inhale sharply. At first she thought it was surprise at the sudden contact but then she remembered his current injured state.

“Danny,” She leaned back abruptly, her eyes flying wide open and a raspy exhale pushing past her lips, her mind was in a fog as she struggled to find the right words; words that would push this situation to the back of her mind. “You didn’t…you didn’t tell me your chest was hurt.”

Danny, who closely resembled a fish in that moment, blinked at her. Clearly he too had lost the ability to speak, “W…What?”

Sam tried to cover her embarrassed flush with an angry scowl, though she doubted it was successful, “Your chest. You didn’t tell me it was hurt.”

Understanding blossomed and his face turned a bright red, “Ah, well it’s not really hurt. Just a little…achy?”

“You still should have told me, idiot.” Her heart was steadying now, her mind able to process once again. Thank goodness. “Do you want me to wrap them?”

“No, they’re fine, thanks.” He turned away from her and Sam would’ve paid anything, her family’s entire fortune, to know what he was thinking in that moment.

Out of a sudden wish to clear the looming silence between them Sam put away the rest of the medical supplies, snapping the case closed. Her fingers brushed the arrowhead as she slipped the first aid kit back into its usual spot.

“Who did this to you?” She asked, gesturing to the weapon, “It seemed like a pretty aggressive attack. Too aggressive for your usual combatants, if you know what I mean.”

Danny fingered the stitches above his eye with a grimace; his cheeks still a subtle pink. He looked happy to have a distraction, “You’re telling me.”

“Be serious, Danny. I thought you were dead.”

He raised an eyebrow at her choice of words.

“Well, deader.” She said lamely.

“It was Skulker,” He wrinkled his nose speculatively. “Though he’s never hurt me on this scale before; he usually just messes me up as we exchange some banter. It was different, he didn’t even brag about his past hunts or call me a welp once.” 

The gears in Sam’s mind were spinning slower than usual, her mind still completely frazzled from her and her best friends almost… what? Kiss?   
She wasn’t sure what to call it.

Sam shoved the thought aside, “Were his eyes red? Did it seem like he was being overshadowed?” 

Danny chewed his lip, causing Sam’s heart to do a gymnastics routine. “I don’t think so. When he kicked me into a wall I got a good look at his eyes and they weren’t coloured; though they did seem oddly empty.”

The Goth shook her head slowly, “We’ll think about this later with Tucker.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Danny slowly got to his feet, leaning back against the grimy wall. “Tuck will probably have a couple theories. He always does.”

Sam snorted, “Right, if mutant cabbages and UFOs count as theories.” The smile vanished from her face as she saw Danny clutching his head with a pained expression. “You alright? Are you sure you told me everything?”

“Yeah, we’re all set to go.” He straightened and gave her a painfully forced grin accompanied by a lame thumbs up, “School awaits.”

“Daniel James Fenton! You cannot seriously be considering going back to school; you’ll collapse before the fifth bell.”

He flinched at the use of his full name, “No, I’ll be fine. Besides, if someone with half a brain hears that Danny Phantom got his tail handed to him in a ghost fight and that Danny Phantom missed school at the same time, they’re going to get suspicious.”

Sam opened her mouth to argue that no one in Amity had half a brain, but upon seeing the determined set of his features knew arguing would be futile. Logically, the locals should have figured it out that first day freshman year; Danny wasn’t exactly subtle. However, she knew better than to argue when Danny was being paranoid like this.

So instead she simply said, “If you’re sure you can handle it.”

The furrow tightening his brow disappeared as he smiled at her, “Thanks, Sam.” He set his narrow shoulders squarely and motioned towards the door.

Sam hid her grin and yanked the stiff handle towards her, “We should probably get going, my teacher’s most likely put a bounty on my head by now. If I don’t explain my self soon I’ll be tackled by the faculty.”

“Oh, argh!” Danny muttered under his breath, turning to her with a guilty look in his eyes. “I made you skip class, I’m sorry. Your teacher’s going to eat you alive.”

“He only does that to C- average students like you.”

“Ouch,” Danny muttered, following her through the door. “Guess I deserved that. I’m still sorry though.”

Sam smiled at him, barely feeling the cold anymore, “I’ll be fine.”

As they headed out into the white blur Sam found herself thinking, Anything for you, Danny. 

Anything for you.

Unfortunately as the door slammed shut behind them, pushed by the biting wind, the pair failed to notice the discarded arrow on the shed floor, pressed into the stiff dirt and completely forgotten.

Green and red blood dripped from its tip, a sure sign of what was about to begin.

Or had, more accurately, already begun.

Dangit, Danny. Dangit Sam. Can't you just KISS????!!?!?!?!  
Oh well, maybe next time.  
Any questions? Spotted any grammatical errors? Please let me know!  
Thanks so much for reading,  
~ASL


	8. Blood

..ooOO-PAULINA-OOoo..  
Amity’s Fashion Gazette fifth year representative was tapping her foot with impatience, a large scowl darkening her features. 

She was going to kill Fenton.

Who cared if his parents were ghost hunter extraordinaires and his sister probably already had a PhD? Not her, that’s for sure.

He could skip all the classes he wanted but not her class, not when she was gracing him with the leading role.

With another annoyed sigh the incessant tapping of her foot increased as she glanced up at the clock. 

The Latina had situated herself in the cafeteria doorway --as the lunchroom overlooked the stage-- and waited like a hungry predator. The rest of her fourth period drama class were wise enough to leave the wrathful diva alone with her anger, distancing themselves as far as humanly possible from her vengeful form while they went over their scripts.

Valerie Gray, to Paulina’s surprise, had fit the part of Red Huntress perfectly. Her unique voice and mannerisms, attributes that had gotten her kicked out of the A-Listers first year, turned out to be exactly what the part required. Paulina’s frown deepened as she recalled the argument she’d had with the girl over the role. 

Why didn’t these idiots want to be stars? First Danny, then Valerie; what was wrong with them? The girl had complained up a storm at the prospect of wearing the Red Huntress garb and Fenton outright said no!

Speaking of the devil, a certain black-haired tramp had just yanked the door open and shuffled in, completely unaware of the talking too he was about to receive.

When he was about a foot away she opened her mouth--only to immediately close it, he looked…rough. Maybe Dash’s absurd reports of the kid being involved in some shady business weren’t that farfetched. Danny certainly looked like he’d come out on the wrong end of a gang fight.

The haggard teen was wearing a Casper High gym uniform instead of his usual loose jeans and ever-present red/white tee. His ebony hair was wet and smelled faintly of the bathroom soap, almost as if he’d just washed it in the sink.

He was also carrying himself differently than he had been when she’d glimpsed him that morning, almost as if every step hurt. Something was totally going on.

Paulina tried to quell her inner gossip, the thought of a new story to expose sent her pulse racing as he limped past her towards Foley’s table, the one designated for those involved with lighting or technology.

She breathed deeply through her nose and moved across the cafeteria towards him, “Fenton!” She called, trying to get his attention before he reached the table. No one else even glanced in her direction; a bossy and yelling Paulina wasn’t exactly a rare sight.

The boy in question turned to stare at her, his face arranging itself into the usual Danny-esque timidity, though now that Paulina was looking closely she could see the holes in his façade.

“Paulina,” He grimaced, voice wavering slightly. “How can I help you?”

Deciding not to give him too hard a time (she could always get mad when he didn’t look on the verge of collapsing) she simply muttered, “I need you to sit with the other main characters. They’re at the table by the front.” 

Danny’s eyes moved to where one of her long, acrylic nails was pointing. He blinked at her slowly, almost sluggishly, making Paulina’s mind race; was he high right now? Or was there something else going on? 

She shoved her question’s aside as the teen phrased one of his own. “Why?”

“Why what?” 

The boy stared at her owlishly, crystalline blue eyes seeming to look through her as he struggled to grasp the loose strings of their conversation, “Say again?”

Her curiosity morphed into something akin to concern as she noticed how dilated his pupils were, “Are you alright?”

The youngest Fenton looked down at himself then back up, “M’fine.”

He was obviously not fine.

Paulina may have the reputation around Casper High for being a stuck-up brat with her fingers in everyone’s business, a reputation she worked tirelessly to uphold, but there really was a heart in her. 

Deep, deep in her, but still there. Most of the time. Occasionally.

Which is why she found herself out in the hallway, making her way towards the school nurse’s office with crackhead Fenton in tow. Their journey, however, was interrupted by the sudden buzz of the offending druggy’s phone.

Danny pawed at it clumsily with an air of great annoyance and stared at the screen with his eyes scrunched in concentration, muttering a soft “Dang it” as he had to move the device closer.

“What’s wrong?” Paulina cringed as soon as the words left her mouth; they sounded much too genuine and…nice. Paulina Sanchez was not nice. In an attempt to remedy her tone she quickly added “You, uh, useless brat.” 

Smooth, Sanchez, she thought with a frown, real smooth.

“I’m concussed again,” The weirdo didn’t sound concerned, more just mildly put out; like head trauma was a next to daily occurrence.

“So we should definitely go to the nurse’s office,” Paulina looped her arm through his when he stumbled over nothing, “Good thing we’re already halfway there.” 

The ebony suddenly snapped to attention, “Nurse’s office?” He tried to yank his arm out of her grip but Paulina simply tightened her hold, “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Paulina said in a huff, heaving him to his feet again, “Concussions aren’t to be taken lightly, they have some pretty serious side affects. Lack of coordination, dizzyiness--”

“Motion sickness, light sensitivity, nausea, etc,etc,” He finished, squinting at her curiously, “You sound just like Sam.”

Paulina was about to rage at him, injuries be danged, for comparing her to Manson when he suddenly clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening cartoonishly as an odd puff of condensation clouded the air. 

Then Latina found herself without a Fenton as he turned and booked it towards the men’s bathroom, achieving speeds even Dash Baxter would have trouble keeping up with.

She blinked after him, feeling an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach; one she felt rarely, if ever.

Love? 

She snorted, definitely not; Danny was a monumental pain and she’d never have any romantic inclination towards the boy. 

With a dark scowl she followed after him, stopping outside the bathroom entrance. So what was this emotion? It felt almost…maternal. Like he was her wayward son whom needed a good head lashing to be set upon on the right track.

Without her consent, Paulina found her hand moving towards her pocket and pulling out her phone, entering the six digit passcode that was still set as Dash’s birthday. Absently she thought of how weird that was, how she should probably change it after this whole fiasco.

With a sigh she dialed the number closest to the top of her contact list, thinking she was crazy even as the first tone sounded. 

She needed someone, a guy obviously, to go into the bathroom and check on the loser. A student dying due to head trauma wouldn’t be good for anyone, especially the school’s reputation, which would affect her chances of attending university, which would make her spiral and have a life on the streets as a member of the French Mafia before she was twenty.

That particular strain of thought was probably a bit extreme and culturally inaccurate, but she felt like it conveyed her point.

Paulina was definitely not acting on any weird, new feelings towards the youngest Fenton as she loitered outside the men’s bathroom, phone in hand, calling her ex boyfriend.   
The only thing in her making sure Fenton, no, Danny, got help was concern for her own future.

Right?

…oooOOO-Dash-OOOooo…

Dash was sitting in fourth period drama at the extras’ table, fists clenched in anger.

Paulina had the nerve to assign him, Dash Baxter, as Bucker. She knew how much he idolized Phantom, how much the star quarterback looked up to Amity’s own resident ghost boy. Sure, he'd get to be friends with him in the play, but...

Why would she assign the part to that nerd for brains, dirtwad of a dweeb Fenton? 

Dash was about to snap at the sniveling group at the opposite end of the table, all extras doing their absolute best to ignore the ticking time bomb they’d been forced with, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

He fished it out and sighed when he saw the name ‘Paulie’ with two pink hearts flash across the screen; he’d been meaning to change that for weeks. He steeled himself before answering the phone, trying to mask the open hostility in his voice, “Hello?”

“Dash, I need you to do me a big favour.” Her voice sounded strained, though he wasn’t sure if that was due to the school’s bad service or circumstance.

“That’s real rich coming from you,” He snarked bitterly, “When I’m sitting at a table with a bunch of losers because of your bad directing.” He ignored the group’s synchronized flinch and continued on with his tirade, “I have half a mind to--”

“Dash,” Paulina interrupted, something definitely off about her tone. “Listen to me--”

“No, Paulie, you listen to me. I don’t care if the school’s caving in or the cafeteria food suddenly started tasting like friggin’ Ramsey's, I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of the angry, venomous screech he’d been expecting from the other line all he got was a soft, “Please, Dash. I need your help. I’ll do whatever you want as pay back, just please listen to me.”

Dash’s resolve crumbled and he felt that all too familiar hate for himself surface, ugly, cold, and creeping as his next words left his mouth, “You’ll help me with Fenton.”

Without bartering Paulina simply muttered a quick, “Done,” and continued speaking, “I need you to come to the boy’s bathroom closest to the cafeteria. Something’s wrong with Danny.”

Dash frowned down at the phone screen before hanging up. Something was definitely wrong if Paulie was calling the little worm by his first name; on the rare occasion that she wasn’t calling him a freak, he’d only ever heard her refer to him as ‘Fenton’.

He reached Paulina in less than a minute, staring perplexedly at her while she stood awkwardly in front of the men’s bathroom, “Care to explain?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning against a nearby fire extinguisher, only to miss his mark and almost fall.

Paulina didn’t so much as blink at his arrival, not even when he narrowly avoided face planting, “I need you to help Danny.”

Dash attempted to process her words but found them incomputable, “What?”

She huffed and placed a hand on her hip, arching an eyebrow at him, “I want you to go make sure Danny’s alright.”

Deciding he really had heard her right he asked the next obvious question, “Why?”

“Because he has a concussion and I don’t want him passing out in there. You of all people should know that brain damage isn’t to be taken lightly.”

Dash nodded seriously; being on the football team he knew that injuries to the head were no laughing matter. The team and he had heard more than enough stories featuring players who’d gotten a knee to the head, thought they were fine, and never woke the next morning. 

“Alright, but why are you doing this? Where’s the dweeb’s friends? I thought they were some kind of package deal.” 

“Just get in there, Dash. “She turned to go, glancing at him over her shoulder, “I have to go make sure my play hasn’t descended into anarchy. Good luck.” 

“You too,” He watched her disappear around the corner before turning towards the bathroom apprehensively, gloom gnawing away at the pit of his stomach as he stepped over the threshold. 

Dash’s brand new N*ke’s squeaked on the tile as he spun around, noting with mounting confusion that all the stalls were empty. In fact, the whole washroom seemed utterly devoid of life, unless you counted the bacteria lurking in the grimy corners.

“Dweeb?” He called out hesitantly, the mocking echo of his voice the only answer. Dash scrunched his nose in thought, had Paulina been pulling his leg? Was this some kind of twisted revenge plot?

He’d just decided to leave, possibly concussed Fenton be darned, when a large black and white blur flew by a hairsbreadth from his face. Had he been any more to the right the thing would have taken his head off.

The body, for that’s what it appeared to be, smashed into the far bathroom wall with a wince-worthy thump. Dust obscured the figure from view as Dash simply stared in shock, unsure of what the school’s procedure was for possibly deadly body-to-wall impact.

There was a twang of string from behind, causing Dash to do a one eighty in surprise. His heart leapt to his throat as he saw an all too familiar form phase through the wall; the Hunter Ghost. 

The entity’s hair raged and snapped like a living flame as his eyes scanned the room, glinting with cold calculation. Dash had, thankfully, never been unfortunate enough to meet this particular ghost face to face.

Evidently his luck was taking a turn for the worse.

The only reason he recognized the ghost was because of the media’s frequent airing of his clashes with Phantom. Dash had watched them all, which is why he was a little disturbed by the Hunter Ghost’s empty expression. Usually when the ghost appeared he was sporting a malicious grin and raving about his ‘collections’.

Now, however, his visage remained blank as he hefted a glowing crossbow and aimed it directly at Dash’s chest. The football star froze on the spot, his mind void; how was he supposed to react in a situation like this? He tried to recall Mr. and Mrs. Fenton’s schoolwide security brief but could remember nothing but a vague image of sticking gum in their son’s hair.

There was a resounding twang as the deadly projectile was fired from the weapon with a shudder, Dash bracing himself for impact. It was whistling as if in slow motion, splitting the air as it rushed towards him when something suddenly seized his ankles and pulled them out from under him. 

His head hit the floor, a thud sounding from the wall behind him as an arrow embedded itself in it. With his ears ringing and stars pirouetting before his eyes he glanced up and nearly fainted; standing above him, in a defensive pose, was his hero. Dash had to withhold a very unmanly squeal as the infamous ghost boy turned towards him.  
“You okay, Dash?” His voice was higher than Dash had expected but, more importantly, DANNY PHANTOM KNEW HIS NAME. 

Wait, why did Danny Phantom know his name? 

The jock was unable to form any coherent form of response until he saw a flash of movement behind the young ghost, “Watch out!”

Phantom spun around just in time to see another of his adversary’s arrows flying towards him. Instead of doing that intangible ghost thing he did on TV Dash’s hero simply blasted a green bolt at the projectile, incinerating it instantly. He shot another burst, this one hitting the other entity square in the chest and effectively knocking him through the far wall.

The ghost boy wasted no time in hooking his arm under Dash’s once his opponent was down, his grip on the jock’s arm uncomfortably tight.

Students of Casper High knew by now that if there was ever a commotion on premises, you simply walked the other way. Hence the empty hall.

Phantom let go of Dash then dropped to his knees with a huff, his hands clutching his sides, “You’ve…got to…run.” Was all he managed to wheeze out between breaths.  
Dash glanced over in surprise when he heard his hero’s voice crack; he’d never seen Phantom in such a state. Now that he was closer he could make out the beads of sweat that coated the ghost boy’s face and a large, stitched cut partially concealed by his pale fringe.

There was probably more damage hidden beneath his suit, too. 

“Are you alright?” Dash tried to keep his tone nonchalant but he could hear the open concern in his own question.

“Never--” The ghost boy broke out into a fit of coughing, “Better.”

Could all ghosts cough and breathe like Phantom? Or was he simply acting on muscle memory from his previous life? Dash, for the second time that day, was regretting not paying attention to the Fenton’s ‘Ectology Biology’ workshop.

Phantom’s bottle green eyes suddenly widened and Dash felt a cold--but not unbearably so—gloved hand push him to the floor, “Get down!”

With the side of his face that wasn’t being pressed into the frigid tile of the hallway Dash saw the Hunter Ghost come flying out of the bathroom, showering them with arrows as he fired at a supernatural pace.

The blond jock winced, believing himself about to become a pin cushion, only to suddenly feel the air around them change. He glanced up and saw a large, protective green orb surrounding Phantom and him, the thing successfully blocking the other ghost’s deadly barrage.

Dash had to resist the urge to squeal yet again; the ghost vigilante hardly ever used his shield! 

His hero hissed in annoyance as their protection began to dim, his glowing eyes suddenly burning with hot rage, “I’m going to have to cancel the shield; it’s taking too much out of me.”

Dash nodded mutely, his mind reaching new heights of idolization and panic.

“I need you to duck and roll out of the way as soon as it’s gone, okay?”

“O-okay,” He cursed the way his voice trembled in response but made ready to obey anyway.

The barrier suddenly flickered out of existence and Dash wasted no time in scuttling backwards, not stopping till he found himself pressed against a hard wall. As he watched the battle taking place before him, he made a mental note to never cross the ghost boy for any reason; he was a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

Ecto energy was everywhere as scorching green bursts rocketed around the small hall, leaving sizable craters in their wake. Despite Phantom’s obvious skill it soon became apparent that he wasn’t going to come out on top. He was moving slowly, almost sluggishly, and each usually fluid movement seemed choppy. His faced was pulled into a permanent grimace and crystalline beads of green goo (blood?) dripped from a cut somewhere on his head.

The vigilante abandoned his ghostly tail for legs as he landed clumsily on the ground, his feet nearly giving out under him. Before he managed to right himself, the Hunter Ghost nailed him with a particularly savage blast to the stomach.

Phantom crashed against a wall for the second time that day, the watching Dash wincing in sympathy. The hunter approached his prey with an air of difference unusual for a victorious ecto entity. From what Dash had seen on the media, most of Phantom’s combatants displayed personality while they were fighting. There was something off about the other ghost’s behaviour. 

Before Dash could figure it out he saw his icon raise a hand, most likely about to fire off some kind of shot in defence, but before he could do so the Hunter Ghost snatched his wrist and gave it a brutal squeeze. There was a loud crunching sound that made even the hardened football jock shudder, followed by Phantom’s low grunt of pain.  
Without warning the Hunter Ghost stiffened, his entire body tensing as something seemed to course through his body. He let go of his adversary’s crushed hand as his back arched, his face blank despite the obvious pain he was in. A ring around his neck lit up as his thrashing came to an abrupt stop.

Dash stood stock still as the aggressive ghost suddenly turned invisible, the only sign that he’d ever been there being the decimated hallway and dust clogged air.  
“P-Phantom?”

The vigilante snapped to attention from his place on the floor, his back against the wall. When he didn’t respond to Dash’s pathetic plea, Baxter risked taking another step towards him,

“You going to be okay?”

“Yes,” He hissed out, his right hand clamped around his opposite wrist. “Shouldn’t take longer than a week for this to heal. He pushed his limp hair from his eyes and slowly heaved himself up, using the wall for support. 

Dash reached out to help him only to have the ghost flinch away, flickering invisible for a brief second before rematerializing, “Sorry, reflexes.”

The football star narrowed his blue eyes at the ghost; there’d been something familiar about the ghost boy’s face before he’d vanished. Something about the thick white brows and downturned lips…“Have we met before?”

“No,” Phantom’s voice deepened slightly and Dash got the feeling it was intentional. “Definitely not.”

“Do you need hel--”

“No.” He cleared his throat, “No thank you, I’ll be fine.” The ghost waved half-heartedly with his good hand and gave Dash a dry smile, “People to save, and all that.” Then he winked out of existence.

Dash blinked at the open air, wondering if Phantom was really gone or not. He sighed heavily as he glanced around at the destroyed hallway, leaning against the wall for support.

Had that really all just happened?

If he was dreaming this was a pretty darn good dream; he’d just gotten to talk with his all-time hero, he’d survived another ghost attack, and Paulina now owed him a favour.   
As he turned to report the incident to the office, he couldn’t help but smile. Despite his abating terror and the adrenaline pumping through his veins like liquid fire, the future wasn’t looking so shabby.

Or so he thought.

…oooOOO-BREAK-OOOooo…

Far, far away under the ground a woman sits in a room of white, a pen in her hand, the only noise being the repetitive tapping of her black stylus on a hard surface.

The room around her is pristine; spotless. Not a single speck of dirt. Each tool is put in its exact place on the surgical table behind her, the very metal they rest on shined to perfection.

A slight haze in the air beside her appears as a ghost becomes visible. The woman turns with a satisfied purr, the wide smile on her face revealing immaculate white teeth,   
“Skulker.” She draws out each syllable, the slight tang of an accent barely audible in her honeyed voice. “My dearest pet; how was the new toy?”

The hunter in question doesn’t respond, his face remaining blank.

“Ah, silly me. I forgot.” With a rustle of cloth, she pulled a small remote from her lab coat pocket, pressing a button that made the collar around the ghost’s neck turn red. “There, all better now.”

The ghost’s eyes suddenly widened as the vacant expression cleared from his face, “What—who are you?” He blinked his eyes at the tiny woman before him then at the green blood staining his hands, “What have I don--”

“That’s quiet enough,” The woman flicked the button again and the collar turned an alarming shade of green. “I simply wanted to see if the microwaves had fried your remnant consciousness. Wouldn’t want my finest specimen to become a pile of steaming goop.”

Skulker, his expression passive once more, lowered his hands with robotic stiffness. 

The woman’s smile widened as she adjusted her headband, “I didn’t want to make you hurt him, no no no, but what can I say? I got a little too…” She giggled, “Excited.”  
The ghost stepped forward and pulled a red-green stained arrow from inside his coat. The receiving woman’s breath hitched as she ran a finger down the tip, the multi-coloured dried blood rubbing onto it, “My suspicions are confirmed; Danny Phantom is exactly what I need.”

With one of the scalpels from the table she scraped the blood from the arrow into a test tube and pulled out a large drawer from her desk, one that was already filled with hundreds of glowing green vials. The woman turned towards the source of the room’s odd glow; a dozen or so tanks of ecto-entities, familiar faces such as the Box Ghost among them. 

“Skulker, join your companions.”

The ghost moved choppily towards the only empty tank and phased inside, instantly freezing as the endoplasmic gel keeping him suspended.

Slamming the door of ecto-blood shut, the woman sat at her large, white desk and began to tap her fingers again, “Now all that’s left is the mixing process.”

Her soft chuckles filled the silence as she gazed fondly at the blood on her finger, bringing it up to her mouth for a tentative lick. She reached out long, spidery fingers for the only personal item adorning her desk; a framed news paper article depicting Amity’s infamous vigilante in flight, the headline reading ‘New Phantom: Hero or Menace?’

The woman caressed the ghost’s picture with a red-stained smile, “See you soon, Fenton.”

(A/N) Well. That happened. I honestly was planning on giving our poor Danny a break.

A special THANK YOU to Mochimatsu, who came up with the wonderful idea to have Dash play Bucker! Check out her awesome reasoning in the comments~  
If anyone else has ideas or something they want to see, I'll try and write it in if it works :)

Also, the main villain for this arc is sort of an OC, which sucks cuz I don't love using OC's. I'll work her into the shows plot, but still...  
As always, thanks so much for reading!

~ASL


	9. Blooming

…oooOOO-PAULINA-OOOooo…

The next morning, when Paulina heard that the entire west hall of the school was closed due to a ghost attack, her heart rate picked up. She’d just finished breakfast and was about to head out the door when the TV from the other room blared out,

“Another ghost attack in Amity taking place in Casper High’s own facility. With school property once again destroyed, funding must be drawn. Here’s an exclusive from earlier this morning with head principal Ishiyama on the financial situation of—”

The door slammed shut behind Paulina as she started to run, ignoring the way her lace flats pounded uncomfortably against the sidewalk. 

Dash had been in that bathroom; she’d sent Dash to the bathroom. Despite their breakup Paulina still considered Dash and her to be friends. She wouldn’t wish an Amity ghost attack on anyone, not even the dorkiest dweeb.

The school loomed before her, stark gray concrete silhouetted against an even grayer sky. With a small heave she pulled the door open and shoved past anyone who dared get in her way as she headed towards Dash’s usual haunt.

She turned the corner, the door to men’s changerooms coming into view, and saw—

A perfectly normal, fine, and healthy Dash Baxter. One might even say more than fine, but that was a whole other can of beans. A can Paulina was determined to ignore.  
He was leaning against the pastel wall, phone in hand. The usual crew of jocks surrounded him, their wonted letterman apparel creating a red sea around their star quarterback.

“You’re not dead!” She sputtered angrily, causing the blond to glance up in surprise.

“Um, no. I’m not. Good morning to you too, Paulie.” 

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Paulina wasn’t sure if the venom in her tone was legitimate or just a result of her worry. She tried to calm her erratic breathing before continuing. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure thing, P,” He blinked at her expectantly.

She hissed softly at his obliviousness, “In private.” 

Kwan, flinching when her icy glare turned on him, ran a nervous hand through his hair before herding the rest of the team down the hall like wayward sheep, “You heard the lady, let’s get a move on.”

As soon as they disappeared, Paulina turned her full attention back to the problem at hand; Dash Baxter, “What happened? I want the full story, and I want it now.”

Dash pushed himself away from the wall, the delineation of nonchalance, and gave her an amused smile, “If you were that curious, you could’ve just called.” He waved his phone in front of her face. “Benefits of the modern world, and all that.”

Paulina blamed the way her heart fluttered on the scare she’d just had, not his endearing grin. “Fine, forgive me for worrying about one of my closest friends.”

He looked surprised, “Me?

“No, Kwan.” She rolled her electric blue eyes, all too aware of the way Dash followed them with his. “Yes, you, idiot.”

His smile widened, “Well, what is there to tell? I went to check on Fentina, par your request.” He shot her a half-hearted glare, “And then that hunting ghost appeared out of nowhere with Phantom. Was about to cream him, too, when he suddenly just. . .poofed.”

Paulina frowned; something about that didn’t sit right with her. “Skulker beat Phantom? How?”

Dash gave her an odd look when she mentioned the ghost by name, but wisely decided not to question her on it, “I said almost. Phantom could take this ‘Skulker’ to town any day of the week.”

“Yes,” Paulina nodded her assent, “I know. I’ve watched him fight enough times to know what he’s capable of. Which is why I’m so confused.”

“Phantom seemed really off is game yesterday,” A sudden smile stretched across his face. “Knew my name, too.”

Paulina reeled as she tried to squash the jealous rage that suddenly reared its ugly head within her, “He knew your name? Amity’s own famous ghost vigilante called you by name?”  
Dash simply shrugged, “Maybe he’s a fan.”

“I always thought the undead had a thing for football,” She remarked dryly. 

“So, is that all?” He inquired, leaning towards her with a now Cheshire-like grin, “’Cause if so you and I have a deal.”

Paulina blinked before remembering how she’d agreed to help him figure out the Fenton kid. “Wait,” A though suddenly struck her, one that’d been pushed aside in her concern for Dash. “Wasn’t Danny in the bathroom during the attack?”

Dash’s face darkened at the name, “Yeah, he was. The little cowards must’ve been hiding. I didn’t see any sign of him; not even that stupid pink backpack he wears.”

The Latina frowned, adding this new occurrence to her mental list of the youngest Fenton’s weirdness.

They talked while heading towards their lockers, both of them keeping the conversation light. Paulina could see that, though he tried to hide it, Dash was pretty shaken up. The other Casper High students probably couldn’t tell but she knew how to read him, always had. 

A sudden shout interrupted Dash’s excited ramble about the next football season, 

“I had to hear it from the TV, Fenton!” An angry Goth shoved Dash aside with a surprising amount of strength as she stormed down the hallway, people moving desperately to get out of her war path and Foley following at her heels, apologizing awkwardly as they went.

Their target, a slouched raven-haired kid with pale skin and bruises, flinched at the sudden noise.

“Hey Sam, Tuck.”

The darker skinned techno-geek’s face twisted from mildly annoyed to extremely concerned as he took in his friend’s condition, “You alright, man?”

“Never better,” Was Fenton’s deadpanned reply.

Paulina glanced at Dash with a raised brow; this was not your everyday conversation. 

The blond nodded back at her, “Something’s definitely fishy about their behaviour.”

She rolled her eyes again at his use of the word ‘fishy’ but pushed her way subtly through the crowd towards the trio.

The Goth girl, Manson, was still chewing her friend out for whatever he’d neglected to mention. She didn’t look as angry now, however. More sad than anything. Foley was nodding along with her, though he didn’t add anything himself.

With a quick glance around, Paulina saw that no one else was watching; no one else’s curiosity piquing at the odd conversation taking place a few feet from them. 

She sighed in frustration, of course no one paid any attention to these losers. No one ever did. Had this been her and a few friends whispering in the corner everyone else would be flocking to them like flies, ears perked to get the newest ‘scoop’.

For a second, a very short second, Paulina was jealous of the trios’ freedom. If only she could have friends like that than maybe, maybe--

Dash’s gentle nudge to the shoulder brought her out of her daydreaming just in time to hear Manson mutter a quick, “Did you at least catch him this time?”  
To which Danny replied with a soft, “No, he’s too fast. Disappeared. Left me with a parting gift, though.” 

Paulina craned her neck curiously, feeling like this ‘parting gift’ would be a great clue to this increasingly confusing jig-saw puzzle. 

As soon as she moved Danny’s head swiveled towards her, taking in her pensive expression with an annoyed frown,

“How about I tell you guys later,” The ebony muttered to his friends, his voice suddenly rising as he glared across the hall at her. “Ears have walls, if you know what I mean.”

Paulina flushed guiltily, before realizing she had nothing to be ashamed about; she was the queen of Casper High, so what if she eavesdropped?

Manson sighed heavily before starting to walk, her combat boots heavy on the tile floor, “That’s not even how the expression goes, you idiot.”

The last thing Paulina heard before the trio turned around the bend was the joyous peals of their laughter, the sound setting off something in her heart.

If she could have friends like that than maybe…

Maybe she wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.

…oooOOO-DASH-OOOooo…

Dash wasn’t exactly surprised to receive Paulina’s texted invitation to her house that Friday night, more just a little weirded out.

How did one act around their extremely attractive ex-whom-they-might-just-still-have-feelings-for inviting them over to essentially stalk a classmate?

He had a feeling flowers wouldn’t quite cut it.

He’d changed out of his usual school clothes and walked over to her house, which was just around the block. He was about to knock when the door suddenly swung back to reveal a green face mask framed by wild black curls,

“Good, you’re early.” The Latina muttered, slamming the door shut once he stepped inside. Dash gave her a once over and tried to hide the smile on his face; she wore fuzzy slippers, loose jogging pants, an extra-large sweater, had her hair in a chaotic messy bun, and some sort of cucumber scented green sludge coating her face.

“You look—”

“Comfortable,” She snapped testily, one green eyebrow raised with an unspoken dare.

Dash didn’t even try to hide his grin, “I was going to say beautiful.” 

He was pretty sure she blushed under the face mask.

“Well, my parents are out on date night, so I figured now was as good a time as any to get started.” She pattered over to the kitchen, her fingers fumbling for the light switch. “Hungry? I got cold pizza.”

After their snack they headed up to Paulina’s room, closing the door behind them. Her room was like a Pinterest ad; all beige colours and tea lights. There was an aura of tranquility in it that seemed at odds with her often prickly personality.

“So,” She pulled a notebook off her desk and sat down cross legged on a large, faux fur carpet. “What do we know?”

Together they managed to fill out his schedule for the past few months, including weird accidents, injuries, absences, long trips to the bathroom, and any sudden disappearances. Everything, no matter how small, got marked down in hot-pink glitter pen.

They stared blankly at the paper after an hour of brainstorming without any luck. Dash sighed heavily, how did the detectives in movies figure anything out? What where they supposed to do now, blackmail?

He turned to Paulina and opened his mouth, about to voice his questions, when she suddenly seized his bicep in a vice-like grip.

“Paulie! What on earth—”

She shushed him harshly and turned to a section of curtained off wall above her desk, slowly rising to her feet with Danny’s schedule in hand.

She gently pulled back the fabric, tacking it back so it was out of her way. 

Dash sucked in a breath at what was underneath it, “Geez, P. That’s…something else.”

On a homemade neon green sign in white, bold lettering were the words ‘Phantom Tracker’. Underneath the sign were newspaper clippings and handwritten notes from the past year and a half. 

He stared up at it, taking in each printed headline and scrawled location, “Um, no judgement, but isn’t this a little unhealthy?”

Paulina turned from it with a frown, “I started it halfway through first year, right when his vigilante career got started. At first it was meant to simply calculate his next move; see if there was a correlation between appearances so could be at the next one.”

Dash remained silent as she drew in a shaky breath, his eyes still trying to process the huge quark board.

“But I was never able to find out, so I sort of just…kept doing it for kicks. He’s a ghost, I didn’t think it’d be creepy or anything.”

“Paulie...” He struggled to find the words that would convey his thought process. He’d never been any good at English. “This is why we ended it. I couldn’t… I didn’t feel right dating you when you had such a strong obsession with a dead guy.”

“It’s not an obsession—” She interjected strongly, only to have Dash cut her off.

“Then what do you call this?” He waved a hand at the board, rising to his feet. “A crush was one thing, but this? I know you were going through a lot with your mom’s remarriage but—”

Her eyes darkened; if it weren’t for the face mask, she’d look downright terrifying, “You promised to never talk about that.”

He recoiled somewhat from her tone but pressed on despite the downright murderous look she was shooting him, “I think after everything that happened, you needed someone. So you turned to Phantom.” His voice dropped to a whisper, hurt lacing his tone, “Not your boyfriend.”

Paulina’s gaze lowered to her feet, “I needed something to keep my from thinking about everything: my mom, my dad, my ruined friendship with Valerie. I needed something that was just mine, no one else’s.”

Those words dug into his heart, clawing at the walls he’d put up since their break-up, “I know, and I still respect that. But P,” He gave her Phantom Tracker a pointed look, “As a friend, I’m telling you this isn’t a distraction anymore. This is bordering on…something else.”

He heard a low sniffle, “I know; I know I’ve needed to s-stop for awhile now. I just don’t know what I would do without him.”

Dash’s arms itched to wrap around her, to try to hold her together like he had when they were still dating. But instead he took a step back, this was something she had to figure out for herself. This was her journey; he couldn’t hold her hand until she learned to stand on her own. 

They were silent, both thinking their own thoughts. The ticking of Paulina’s bedside clock and the passing of lonely cars on the street were the only sounds that proved the world still went on around them.

Dash, however, had never been good with silence. Especially awkward, heavy, deep silences.

“Of course I end up friends with the only person on the planet addicted to the undead.” He shook his head with mock solemnity, “She couldn’t settle on drugs, oh no. It was phantom for her.”

Paulina chuckled, even if his joke wasn’t particularly funny. “Thanks, Dash.”

“Anytime,” He smiled, using a nickname he hadn’t ventured since they were in elementary school. “Princess.”

Her laugh this time was genuine; a little sad and a little heavy, but definitely real. “Shut up. Anyway,” She swiped at her eyes with her too long sweater sleeve, taking off some of the green residue around her eyes, and turned back to the Phantom Tracker “I showed you this because they’re the same.”

Dash blinked, trying to recall what they’d been doing here before their conversation, “What?”

She frowned impatiently, waving Fenton’s make-shift schedule in his face, “My Phantom Tracker and Danny’s schedules match.”

“So, what? Fenton’s secretly Phantom?” Even as the words left his mouth Dash couldn’t help but snort; there was no way that little shrimp was his hero. He stuffed the idea down where it could never again see the light of day.

Paulina twirled one of the dark hairs that had managed to escape her bun around her finger and began to pace, “No, don’t be stupid. Every absence matches up, as do the injuries.” She poked one of the older news articles, “Look, remember when Danny was gone for a whole week and Manson said he got the flu? That matches up perfectly with the time Phantom got shot out of the sky by Plasmius.”

She stopped, examining the two calendars again, “How do they connect? I thought Danny avoided ghosts like the plague, his parents are ghost hunters, what would he be doing following one around?

A sudden thought stuck Dash so brutally he was sure he’d get a Lichtenburg scar later, “Say that again.”

“’What would he be doing following them around?’”

“Not that, the other thing. The ghost hunting thing.”

She sighed, “Dash, speak English.”

“Fenton’s hunting Phantom.”

The Latina stopped pacing, grounding to a stop in front of him. Her eyes were wide and incredulous; she was obviously going to need more convincing.

Dash shoved the feeling that he was missing an essential piece to the puzzle aside and instead pulled the schedule from her grasp, holding it up to the Phantom Tracker, “Think about it, Paulie. He’s always disappearing when Phantom appears, he’s always getting hurt when Phantom’s in a fight, and he has more than enough resources to hunt him.  
It was the only logical solution, right?

“It does make more sense than steroids and gangs,” She muttered softly, forehead scrunched in thought. “But still, Fenton?”

“This has to be the explanation to his weirdness. I mean, if he’s been trying to catch Phantom all the time he’s probably exhausted. This explains everything.” The feeling of wrongness was still there but Dash ignored it; he was probably just having a hard time coming to terms with Fenton’s ‘hunter’ status.

“But how will we expose him? We can’t have him hunting Amity’s only protection against ghosts. If Danny catches him, his freak parent’s will tear Phantom apart.” Paulina sounded like she was on the verge of hysterics, her voice twisted with worry.

“We’ll just have to keep Fenton from catching him,” Dash steadied her gently, “Until we get some concrete proof.”

She smiled up at him and, with tears making tracts in her face mask and curls sticking to her skin, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful, “Sounds like a plan.”

He let go of her arm and stepped back, an equally large grin stretching his lips, “Well, I’m beat. What do you say to more pizza?”

The Latina suddenly bolted towards the door, calling over her shoulder, “I say last one down has to eat my crust.”

Dash stared after her for a brief second before finally processing her words, “Hey!” He shouted, feet pounding down the stairs, “That’s cheating!”

Once they were seated in Paulina’s living room, her unwanted crusts on his plate, the pair turned on the TV and began to channel surf. 

“I think Holland’s the best. I mean, did you see him in Far From Home?” She gave a low whistle.

Dash shook his head, cramming another pizza crust into his mouth, “I still think Thoby’s the besth.” He swallowed, staring at his now empty plate broken heartedly. “Maguire’s are timeless classics.”

Paulina snorted, “More like cheesy—Look!” She suddenly paused on the late-night news, turning the volume up until they could hear what the heavily done up man on screen was saying,

“Amity has been split on the topic of a certain ghost vigilante for some time now, many believing him the protector of our city and other’s calling him an obsessed danger to society.” The man’s tone, though informative, left no clues as to what opinion he himself held, “However, he may not be around for much longer as esteemed, and self proclaimed, ectologist Doctor Blake of the GIW has uncovered some new facts.”

The screen split in half, revealing a smiling woman in a white lab coat sitting at a pristine desk. She looked no older than thirty, her petite face framed by immaculate brown curls and an absent-minded look in her laugh lined eyes, “Thank you for having me, John.” 

The news anchor’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t been expecting her, “I’m sorry for my surprise, I was told Doctor Blake was a man.”

The woman’s toothy smile expanded, revealing flawless pearly whites, “Doctor Blake was head of our department but recently had a tragic eco related…accident. Being the only one available, I stepped up to take his place.”

The anchorman nodded his understanding, “What may I call you then, Mrs.?”

“My name is Doctor Katherine Idolon,” She shifted slightly, her hand twitching towards the only piece of décor on her desk; an ornate picture frame. “But you may call me Kathy.”  
“Well then, Kathy. It’s my understanding you’ve discovered something that could change the world of ghost hunting as we know it?”

The woman gave small blush, fanning her face with a small hand. 

Dash frowned slightly; something about this lady was rubbing him the wrong way. She seemed…fake.

“I wouldn’t go that far, John.” Her hazel eyes glittered through the screen, “I’ve simply discovered Amity’s infamous ghost boy’s haunt.”

The anchorman, John, frowned, “How about you give all those at home a little gleaning into the word ‘haunt’?”

“Of course,” Kathy practically gushed. “As any ecto-ologist worth their stuff will know, every ghost has a location they prefer to stay. A safe place, shall we say. For whatever reason, they feel a strong emotional pull to this setting and will often feel an overwhelming urge to protect it.”

“I see,” John said, his voice pinched into a tone that clearly suggested otherwise. “Please continue.”

“Based on my research,” A cold frown shifted her features, disappearing as quickly as it came. “Our dear ghost boy can be found at Amity’s own Casper High during the regular school hours.”

Paulina gasped, though Dash wasn’t sure why; this wasn’t exactly a revelation to them. They saw Phantom at school almost every day.

On the television screen Kathy and John were exchanging farewells, Kathy’s section of the screen blinking out of existence once they finished. 

“Well, you heard it for yourselves here on the Park News; Danny Phantom’s haunt is Casper High. What kind of effect will this have on the education of Casper High’s students? What precautions will the staff be taking after this shocking revelation? Find out after—"

Paulina turned off the TV with a very uncharacteristic snarl, “How could she do that to him?”

Dash cocked his head at her from his place on the sofa, “What do you mean?”

“Expose him like that,” She turned to him, her icy blue eyes glowing in the light of a nearby lamp. “He protects all of us from the other ghosts and she just…betrayed him!” 

“I still don’t follow.”  
“What did we just find out, Dash?” Her voice was angry, angrier than he’d ever heard it.

He thought back to their conversation and it suddenly hit him, “She just made him a target for ghost hunters. Phantom’s not going to survive the week.”

Paulina nodded, though it looked more like an aggressive head bop, “Adult ghost hunters won’t be allowed on school grounds, but Fenton will have free reign.”

Dash frowned, a savage glare twisting his features, “I forgot about him.”

She hopped off the couch and stood in front of him, hands on her hips, “So what are we going to do about it, Dash?”

“Stop him of course; Phantom’s saved my life more times than I care to count. I won’t let that dweeb touch a hair on his ghostly head.”

(A/N:) Ah, sweet summer children; how WRONG you are.

Seriously tho, the irony in this chapter almost killed me. I was tempted to put the reveal here, but I have other plans *laughs in evil author*  
Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate it :)

~ASL


	10. Polyster

…oooOOO-Tucker-OOOooo…

Tucker Foley liked to think he was a jack of all trades, master of none. 

Which is why he found himself listening to his two best friends’ conversation, doing homework, and skirting rapidly through Sam’s triple premium plus channel package, all while simultaneously stuffing his face with cheese whiz.

It was while admiring his friend’s excessive entertainment setup when something Danny said caught his ear. The African American turned from the TV with a scowl, adjusting his glasses so they no longer hung off the tip of his nose.

Danny had shown up at their usual after school meeting place--Sam’s huge house--looking a little worse for wear. Again.

He now sat on the plush carpet of the Manson’s living room, bare chested, as Sam carefully tended to his back, “—Seemed way more aggressive than usual. I mean, look at this!” The raven-haired boy brandished his freshly re-wrapped wrist with an annoyed grunt, “It was almost like he was trying to kill me.”

Tucker stared at his best friend’s bruised face and couldn’t help but agree; he looked way worse than he usually did after a run in with Skulker. Instead of voicing his thoughts Tuck asked, “Didn’t you fight him twice yesterday?”

Danny nodded, “Yeah, first he comes out of nowhere during lunch and puts one right in my chest.” His fingers gently brush the stitched spot just below his collarbone as if to reassure himself it wasn’t a bloody hole, “Then he attacks me again in the bathroom of all places.”

Sam, seemingly satisfied with her first aiding, began to stuff the medical supplies back into her personal duffel bag.

Tucker nudged the Fenton Thermos with a socked toe from his place on the Manson’s lazy boy, “Did you at least suck him up?”

The ghost boy’s face darkened, “No, he snapped my wrist then vanished.” He waved his mummified right hand again angrily, “I couldn’t sleep cause the bones were shifting back into place all night.”

The techno-geek shuddered; he couldn’t imagine breaking a bone, let alone multiple. As his two friends began to speculate over Skulker’s sudden change in behaviour, Tucker turned his attention back to the television, eyes widening at what he saw.

An emboldened headline was crawling across the scene, ‘Breaking news, Phantom’s haunt revealed. Breaking news—” It repeated the message over and over, branding the words into the watching boy’s consciousness. 

He turned up the volume, mouth hanging loosely, as an unfamiliar female ectologist practically signed his best friend’s death warrant. 

Ecto hunters, like the Fenton parents themselves, would storm the school in droves; students would be keeping an eye out for any and all ghostly behaviour. This was a disaster  
There was a sharp inhale from behind him accompanied by a franticly muttered, “How’d she know?”

“Danny?” He turned and flinched at the raven-haired halfa who was staring at the television in horror, a wild look in his now radioactive green eyes.

All three off them watched till the interview finished, the screen now displaying an interview with some psychologist who was apparently the ‘first one’ to ever successfully psycho-analyze Phantom. Tucker was pretty sure Jazz had beat them to it a long, long time ago.

“How’d she know?” Danny breathed out again, the sound strangled. “I thought…” He trailed off, one hand clutching his hair and the other hanging uselessly at his side.

“Hey,” Sam pulled his good hand away from his hair where it had previously been twisted and held it firmly between her own. “We’ll figure it out, okay? No one knows you’re a halfa; your human form’s still safe.”

Judging from the shimmering frost spreading from Danny’s palm, his hand was freezing to the touch. Despite this Sam still held it close as she helped him slow his breathing, instructing him to count backwards from twenty-nine. 

While she calmed their friend down, Tucker’s mind began spinning a web of conclusions, all spiraling outwards from the question; who would do this? The only person who knew of Danny’s other half that would have anything to gain from having Amity on Phantom’s case was… 

“Vlad.”

Sam shot him an annoyed look that clearly read not helping but Danny, now a little more centered, nodded his head slowly, “D-do you think he’s behind this? He could have ties with the GIW.”

“It’s possible,” Tucker turned the TV off with a satisfying click. “I mean, who else knows your identity and has a vested interest in ruining your life?”

“Ghosts,” Sam muttered savagely, her hand still wrapped around Danny’s.

“What, you think the Box Ghost is out there cooking up convoluted schemes to get in his mom’s pants?” Tucker shook his head contemplatively, “I seriously doubt it.”

The Goth, still scowling at Tucker, slowly helped Danny to his feet and passed him an oversized hoodie, “Despite Tuck’s…vulgar way of putting it, Vlad is the only one would have something to gain from exposing your usual location. It’s probably him.”

Tucker had to admit, if only to himself, that Danny looked a bit like a kicked puppy drowning in his baggy sweater, eyes wide and hair a tousled mess, “But what are we going to do? How am I supposed to go ghost with the whole student body keeping their eyes peeled?” He let out a breathy laugh that sounded more like a wheezing choke.

“We’ll just have to confront hi—” Tucker started, only to have Sam clap her hand fiercely over his mouth. 

She seized his arm in a freakishly strong grip and began to pull him toward her families industrial sized kitchen, “Excuse us for a moment, Danny. Foley and I need to…discuss.”

Once behind closed doors Sam rounded on him with such ferocity that the techno-geek’s blood turned cold, “We both know that Danny is in no such condition to go gallivanting off to Wisconsin for tea with Vlad.”

Tucker grumbled, wrenching his arm out of her grasp and shoving his hands deep into his pockets, “Gallivanting?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Tuck. As soon as Danny gets an idea into his head, there’s no stopping him. Did you see him out there? He’s barely holding on as it is.” Her violet eyes met his and he saw the usually well concealed fear sparkling in their depths, “Do you want him to die, Tucker?”

Sam may as well have pierced his heart with a shuriken, “Of course I don’t want him to…you know.” Tucker ignored the way his voice stumbled over the words. “He was my best friend Junior Kindergarten; I’d give my PDA’s to the homeless if he asked me to.”

She let out a breath slowly, running a tired hand over her face that smudged her dark makeup, “Look, we both want to keep him alive. We have to convince him to take some time to heal. If he went to confront Vlad in his condition, he’d probably fall out of the sky on his way there.”

Tucker cleared his throat softly, “I’m sorry.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, “Pardon?”

“I should have been more considerate. I forget how fragile he can be sometimes.” Tucker gave her a sad smile, “I mean, after watching him kick ghost butt for over a year it’s hard to remember that he’s still in high school.”

Her violet eyes softened, “I know what you mean.”

They shared another smile, communicating without words in the silence of Sam’s kitchen. Sometimes, like when they argued, Tucker forgot that Sam and he were actually pretty good friends. However, he soon decided that this was enough touchy-feely nonsense to last him the year,

“So, how are we going to keep him from—"

A voice suddenly rang out from the empty air beside them, “I hear communication usually works pretty well.”

Sam let out a small yelp and leapt backwards while Tucker shrieked. 

“Danny!” They cried simultaneously, shooting daggers at the patch of air where their friend was concealed. 

The teen in question winked into existence with a mischievous smile on his face, “I seriously don’t understand how you guys aren’t used to this yet, and how you keep forgetting about the advanced hearing.” He tapped his earlobe with his left hand, “I could hear you pouring your hearts out from the living room.”

Tucker’s annoyed frown gave way to a flush that he quickly tried to cover, “Keep scaring us like that and I might just consider Sam as prime best friend material.”

“Pretty sure we’d get to hear Danny’s unmanly shriek a whole lot more if I were the one popping into conversations with freaky ghost plot-convenience powers,” Sam growled, clearly fighting off a smile.

Danny held a hand to his chest and spoke in a faux falsetto, “Me? Unmanly? Why, I never—”

He was cut off by Tucker digging an elbow into his side, “That’s not even that different from your usual voice.”

The ghost boy grinned, though his good hand immediately moved to the place where he hit him, “Wounded, in more ways than one.”

Tucker blanched, his smile wavering, “I forgot, sorry.”

“Jeez, dude. Chillax.” Danny bumped him back, but Tucker saw the lingering pain fogging his friend’s crystal eyes. 

Sam cleared her throat loudly, effectively drawing the boys’ attention, “Look, we need to talk to you Danny.”

“Yeah,” Tucker piped up, pushing aside his guilt at accidentally hurting the halfa. “Sam does.”

She sent him a glare angry enough to melt a chunk off Mt. Everest, “We both know you’ll want to head right off to confront Vlad in your usual ‘hero complex’ way, but—”

“Guys,” Danny shot them both an amused smile, “I’m not going anywhere like this. If you don’t think I should—" Tucker saw his friend’s gaze shift to Sam, “Then I won’t. I trust you.”

The techno-geek tried to hide his smirk when Sam met Danny’s gaze. He’d been watching them tip toe around each other for so long that his thoughts of 'kiss, kiss fall in love' were second nature now.

However, after a minute passed and they were still staring at each other, Tucker got a little tired of inhaling the horny teen air, “Soooo, what do you guys say to a Nasty burger and fries?” He ventured tentatively, as if the two were a pair of skittish deer instead of cupid-struck crushes.

The two leapt back like they’d been burned.

“Y—” Danny started, breaking into a coughing fit when his voice cracked, “Yeah, sounds good.”

Sam smoothed her halter top even though there wasn’t anything visibly rumpled about it, “I say ‘save the planet and go ultra-recyclo-vegetarian’.” She shrugged at Tucker’s hostile glare, “But a milk shake would be great.”

“Consumed with your own re-usable straw, no doubt,” Tucker teased, no real malice behind his words. 

The Goth shot him a desiccated look and pulled out a small, straw-sized drawstring pouch, “But of course.”

The trio shared a laugh, relieved that the tension was, if not gone, at least out of the way for now.

It was only once they were on the dark street, lit by the dim streetlights of Amity, that Danny’s face straightened seriously, “Next Friday we’re going to Wisconsin.”

Tucker glanced at Sam for confirmation but found her instead studying their third friend with a tight-lipped frown before; her coercion face. “Only if you promise not to go ghost for the next two weeks. No matter what comes at us, you stay as Fenton. Agreed?”

To the two’s surprise Danny nodded, an amused smile twisting his lips again, “Agreed, now let’s go get some burgers. I’m starving.”

Tucker’s grin brightened at Sam’s causal response of ‘you’re not starving’ and Danny’s swift rebuttal. He slung his arm around their shoulders as they disappeared into the gathering darkness,

For now, at least, everything was as it should be.

…oooOOO-DANNY-OOOooo…

Before they knew it, another weekend had come and gone. Monday reared its ugly head and Danny found himself surprisingly…not tired. 

With no ghost fighting keeping him up over the weekend and a broken wrist preventing him from playing DOOMED, he’d had his first consecutive nine hours of sleep since the accident last year. 

Once he’d managed to roll out of bed and find clothes that passed the smell test, breakfast was already cold and the kitchen vacated. Based on the odd assortment of clanks and curses emanating from downstairs, his parents were already hard at work. He made a mental note to sabotage whatever pain inducing invention they were busy concocting later.

Ever since the news reveal Friday night his parents had been frantically pulling their deadliest tech out of storage, most of which Danny had immediately moved to his ‘destroy with extreme prejudice’ list. Today they were meeting with principal Ishiyama about setting up shop at the school. 

After eating he shoved a haphazard lunch into his bag and walked out the door, locking it behind him. More so for the protection of any thief dumb enough to target Fentonworks than for the prevention of an actual robbery.

His foot hadn’t even hit the sidewalk yet when he felt it; that indescribable sensation of being watched. He resisted the urge to look around and instead continued on his way to school, feet pounding loudly against the pavement. 

When the bleak facility of Casper High loomed before him, silhouetted against a dreary sky, Danny let out a relieved breath. He took the stairs two at a time, grateful for the crowd surrounding him. 

By the time lunch came around he’d already forgotten his possible follower, his attention a little preoccupied by the seething harpy glaring at him from the A-Lister’s table.

“Did I do anything to make Paulina mad in the last, I don’t know, year? It looks like she’s ready to tear me apart with her bare hands.”

Tucker snorted, the juices of a sloppy joe dripping down his fingers, “Besides exist?”

“Tearing you apart with her bare hands would ruin her nails,” Sam munched down on a particularly tasteless looking tofu burger, swallowing thickly before continuing. “She’d get one of her lackeys to do it.”

Danny ducked his head behind his squashed lunch bag to avoid the Latina’s smoldering gaze, “I have her in my next period class; tell Jazz she can have my asteroid collection after my funeral.”

As if possessed with malicious sentience, the bell sounded as soon as the words left his mouth. Sam waved the two a quick goodbye before disappearing into the roaring tsunami of students suddenly flooding the halls.

Since the stage overlooked the cafeteria Danny and Tucker didn’t have to move from their usual lunch table, “How long do you think I have before the she-demon offs me?” Danny groaned; head still hidden by his space themed lunch kit.

Tucker cleared his throat and kicked his friend in the shin, causing the raven-haired youth to glance up. His heart dripped down the side of his lungs when his eyes met Paulina’s, her pencilled eyebrows cinched into a tight frown, “Fenton.”

“Uh,” He gulped audibly, ignoring Tucker’s snickers from his left. “H-hey.”

“Follow me,” Without another word she began to stride towards the stage, people leaping out of her way like non-vaccers before a syringe. 

Danny moved after her with a sigh, ignoring the curious looks from the watching class. Once they’d both climbed the stairs to the stage she stopped, bending to pick up a microphone from the lacquered floor. “Would all the main characters please join me on stage? All the main characters on stage now.”

Kwan hopped up from the A-Listers’ table and headed towards the stage, an easygoing smile on his face. Valerie, who’d been sitting alone, stormed towards them with Mikey following hesitantly at her heels. 

Once they were all on stage Paulina turned back to the rest of the class, “You all know what you should be doing; if I find that anyone wasted this period, I will personally ensure they fail. Are we clear?”

The class flinched as a whole and began to get to work, arranging themselves with their fellow group members.

“Alright people,” Paulina fixed each of the others with a glare before looking with particular venom at Danny, “I’m sure you all saw the newest info on Phantom, and I’m sure you’re all keeping an eye out for him.”

Everyone in the group nodded, Valerie a little more vehemently than the rest of them.

“Good, then you’ve probably already figured out that it’s more than likely Phantom himself will see our play.” Another burning glare at Danny, “So I want us to be better than the best, understood?”

Again, the main cast nodded.

Paulina smiled icily, “Then let’s get started.” She began to pass out stapled booklets, each one emboldened at the top with a name. “You’ve all been chosen for a particular part and I’ve already tailored each part to you specifically, meaning if there’s anything you want to change; to bad. You’re stuck with it.”

Danny glanced down at the pristine paper in his hand, a nervous sweat glistening on his brow as he saw the words ‘Danny Phantom’ right across the top. 

“—Is that going to be on there?” 

He glanced up to see the rest of the cast members staring at him, Paulina pointing a long finger down at his cast, “Uh, could you repeat that?”

The Latina let out an annoyed snort before phrasing her question again, “How long is that going to be on there?”

“Oh,” His mind blanked as he tried to remember when Sam said she’d allowed him to remove the cast, “It’s coming off sometime next week.”

“Perfect, we can’t have our Danny Phantom traipsing around with a sprained wrist.” She turned away, addressing them all again, “From now on I will be addressing you only by your stage names during this class, you must do the same.”

Kwan groaned, “Does that mean you have to call me the Wisconsin Ghost all the time?” 

Paulina shook her head at him, “No, you’ll be called Plasmius. That’s what Phantom calls his archnemesis in real life.” She gestured at Valerie next, “You’ll be called Huntress, Mikey will be Bucker, and Danny will be Phantom.”

When they all turned to stare at him at the mention of his alter ego, Danny felt his heart rate increase exponentially; he was going to have a very hard time getting used to it.

Mikey adjusted his glasses with a frown, turning to the director, “What about you?”

She flipped her hair back with a blinding grin, “I’ll be Pam, one of Phantom’s two human helpers.”

Danny smiled dryly at the name, already imagining Sam’s reaction to Paulina taking on her real-life roll for a stupid play. 

“Stop grinning, idiot. Me and you are on stage.” Paulina gestured at stage right with a choppy wave, her hands garnering her hips, “Alright people, scene one.”

He glanced down at his page while following her over and saw a neatly printed,

Phantom: [Enters stage right with Pam and Bucker].

Once in position, Mikey and Paulina on either side of him, Paulina started reciting her lines from memory, not even glancing at the script in her hand, “Oh Phantom, I’m so glad you saved me last night. I was so scared.” She grabbed Danny’s arm, the sudden and unexpected contact making him yelp.

Mikey cleared his throat, squinting at his script like it was size five font instead of twelve, “Uh, ‘yes, we would indeed have died if not for your heroic endeavours’.” His voice was flat and dull, like Go*gle Translate trying to tell a story.

Danny blinked down at his own paper, “’You’re most welcome…my dudes?’” He wrenched his arm out of Paulina’s to stare incredulously at her. “Phantom doesn’t talk like that!”

“Yes, he does.” The Latina waved the script in front of Danny’s pale face, “He’s the epitome of cool angsty teenager.”

The halfa sputtered, “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly,” The girl poked an accusatory finger at him. “Someone like you wouldn’t know.”

Mikey, suddenly deciding that his two cents were essential to the conversation, muttered a quick, “I agree with Danny; the script is most precocious.”

“Is not,” Paulina turned to the next page of her sheet and read. “’Oh Phantom, you are the cream to my ice, I can’t wait till tonight when we can finally—”

Danny shook his head emphatically, cutting her off before the play’s dialogue caused him a hernia, “That’s exactly what I mean, when have you ever heard someone say that? Did you even try to find a better pick-up line?”

“Oh yeah? Well, what would you recommend?” She challenged him, eyes darkening dangerously, “Last I heard you were failing English with a solid forty-three.”

The halfa winced; he was pretty sure his mark had actually dropped to somewhere around the mid thirties. “Look, my literacy skills have nothing to do with this,” He dipped his shoulders in a shrug, waving the paper back and forth. “No matter what, this still reads like a bad fan fiction.”

Paulina’s frown was sharp enough to shape diamond, “Takes one to know one.”

“What’s that supposed to mea—” Danny’s protests were suddenly cut off by a deep, bass voice,

“I think he’s right; no offense, but this story’s a little…unoriginal.” 

Danny stared at Kwan in surprise, “Uh, thanks?”

“I think you really poured your heart into this,” The jock waved the script absently. “But it could be better.”

The Latina paused, “Really?” Her lip protruded in a half pout as she studied the script. “I guess it could use a little work.”

Kwan placed an arm around her shoulder and guided her away from the other two cast members, shooting them a smile over his shoulder.

Mikey was the first to voice Danny’s sentiment, “Well, that was weird.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Danny muttered. “Could this get any worse?”

…oooOOO-BREAK-OOOooo…

It could. It definitely could.

The next day, Tuesday, when fourth period rolled around, Danny thought he was ready for anything.

He was wrong.

The unholy sight of Paulina holding a DIY black jumpsuit with white detailing in one hand and a glimmering, white wig in the other almost stopped his heart. 

She was standing on stage, back towards him, yelling instructions at a flustered Kwan, “The cape’s upside down and the horns are supposed to sit further back on the head. You’ve got it all wrong!”

She sighed and turned to Mikey, who was wearing a faded yellow polo shirt and thick rimmed glasses. Danny honestly couldn’t tell if it was a costume or his everyday attire.

After looking Mikey up and down, she nodded at him, “Perfect; at least one of you is competent.”

“But where’s my costume—” The boy started to ask but Paulina spoke over him, finally catching sight of Danny loitering by the stage stairs. 

“Good! I thought you might be skipping again.” She shifted the Phantom-get-up, balancing it on her hip, “Come here.”

With a feeling of absolute dread blooming in his stomach like the sickliest of flowers, he dragged his feet across the stage towards her. His breath quickened as he imagined it; himself standing for the whole class to see in a white wig and skin-tight suit. Even the dumbest hunk would be able to connect his two identities if they saw.

He stared down at it with a frown, “Am I supposed to wear that?” 

“Yes,” She stretched it out for him to admire. “Me and Kwan, after working on the script yesterday, decided that being in costume would help you guys get into character. Isn’t that right, Phantom?”

He jolted at the name, taking a step back, before remembering her resolve to call them only by their stage names the day before. “Right, right.” He coughed into his good hand, “Uh, right.”

Paulina gave him a quizzical look before shrugging her shoulders, “Go change backstage in dressing room four, your script will be in the green envelope.”

Danny felt like he was in a trance as he pounded across the stage and behind the curtains, the itchy wig clutched in his trembling hands. He could lose the suit, drop it out the window and never look back, but he suspected Paulina had a spare. Maybe several.

With a sigh he pulled out his Fenton Phone™ and dialed Sam’s number. She was in class right now but she always answered when he called, she was reliable like that.

Right as the second dial tone sounded, she picked up, “What happened? Did Skulker come back? Did you have to go ghost?”

“No, nothing like that. Are you in a safe location?” 

“Yeah, as soon as I saw it was you, I asked to go to the bathroom. No one can hear us.” There was a soft rustling. “I also do have to go to the bathroom, so it was a win-win.”

A slight flush rose to Danny’s cheeks but he willed it away with a frown, “We have a problem.”

“A Fenton Thermos type of problem?”

“Worse, one of the Paulina variety.”

There was an intake of breath on the other end, “Oof, what’d she do?”

He yanked the dressing room door open, closing it softly behind him, and tossed the suit to the floor, “She gave out costumes today and mine hit a little too close to home, if you know what I mean.”

“Danny,” She let out a sigh of relief that sent weird chills down the length of his spine. “So what?”

“What do you mean ‘so what’?” He felt his voice raise somewhat hysterically, “If they see me wearing this, they’re definitely going to figure it out; I’ll look exactly like Phantom.”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” There was silence on the other end and something that sounded suspiciously like a toilet being flushed. “Does the wig have polyester in it?”

The sudden change in tact caused Danny to pause before snatching the wig up and rooting through it till he found the tag, “Um, yes? What does that have to do with anything?”

He didn’t have to see her face to know there was a huge smirk twisting her lips, “Allergies.”

“Sam,” The halfa tried to keep the dry annoyance out of his tone. “Please get to the point.”

“Fine, once at the Skulk and Lurk, one of the blonde members wore a black wig to look the part. Turned out the wig was made almost entirely of polyester and she had a massive reaction.”

Danny smiled, finally seeing where she was going with her story, “So if I had a polyester allergy what your saying is that I wouldn’t be able to wear the wig.”

“Yup,” Sam popped the ‘p’. “Paulina will have to order a real wig, which will take at least a week. It’s a temporary fix, but—”

“Sam you’re the best! I would totally hug you if I knew which bathroom you were in.”

She made a weird gurgling, sputtering sound before coughing out a soft, “Thanks, Danny.”

The colour was rising in his cheeks again but this time he couldn’t keep it at bay, “Bye Sam.”

“Bye.”

He hung up, wincing when he saw that his face was still stained a light red in the dressing room mirror. With a sigh he slipped the phone back into his jean’s pocket and pulled his shirt over his head. 

The suit felt freakishly similar as he zipped it up, the black rubber reflecting the glare of the backstage lighting. Every bit of white detailing looked perfectly sized to the real deal; even the tread of the white boots was the same. 

“She has way too much time on her hands,” Danny muttered at his reflection in the mirror, balling up his clothes and leaving them on the vanity in a disorganized heap. Next to a discarded hair dryer sat a lime green envelope, a flowing ‘Phantom’ printed on its side. 

He popped the sticker-seal and stuffed it into the jumpsuit’s pocket, not sure whether to be complimented or disturbed that it was in the same exact spot as his actual suit’s pocket. 

With a final glance in the mirror, noting how weird his appearance was without his inverted physical attributes, he headed back towards the stage.

(A/N:) Argh! So I wrote out a big plot schematic, which is good cuz now I know what I'm doing, but also BAD because it means Dash can't be 'Bucker'. Which really sucks, cause I absolutely loved that idea :;(

It'll make sense as to why later on... but still. It sucks. I'll go back and change it so people don't get confused.

Thanks for reading and commenting, you've all been so, so, SO helpful and sweet; it really encourages me to keep going with this! Stay cool, cucumbers :)

~ASL


	11. Bully

…oooOOO-Kwan-OOOooo…

Kwan was…confused.

It was Tuesday afternoon, the fourth period bell having sounded a while ago, and Paulina had given him a costume. 

The cape was long (too long) and the horns were sharp (too sharp). Everything about the costume screamed ‘Dracula’ and Kwan didn’t like it one bit.

When he finally thought he had it figured out, he stood up and spread his arms to admire Paulina’s handiwork. If she was unable to pursue a career in modeling, or whatever the heck she was planning, the girl could definitely get one in design. 

A loud screech suddenly interrupted his revelry, “The cape’s upside down and the horns are supposed to sit further back on the head. You’ve got it all wrong!” 

He blinked over at Paulina and had to squash his annoyance at her bossy tone. Sometimes he didn’t know how Dash still hung around her; she was an extremely bossy force to be reckoned with.

Her loss over the whole script argument yesterday had taken her down a notch; the play really had been horrible. Kwan liked to think that, after his intervention, it was a heck of a lot better.

Kwan had a secret that he’d only told one person about, and that was only because Dash had climbed through his window at three in the morning asking for their math homework and caught him in the act.

He had been working at his desk first year, the muted glow of golden lamplight filling the room, on an article for the Amity Gazette’s Anon Subscription. His secret was that he wanted to be a journalist; not a sports world journalist, not a tabloid writer. Just…your average, everyday journalist. If only his dad wasn’t so—

Kwan’s reminiscing was interrupted when Paulina appeared at his side, having already sent poor Fenton off to the dressing rooms. 

“You still have the cape upside down,” She remarked dryly. 

Kwan breathed in through his nose, then back out through his mouth before answering, “Help me maybe?”

“You only had to ask,” The Latina remarked snarkily, gently pulling the cape off and clipping it back on the right way. It looked exactly the same to Kwan.

He was glad there weren’t any mirrors around, he probably looked like some kind of freak. 

“It looks perfect,” Paulina breathed out, her hands itching towards him. “And it’ll be ten times better once you’re wearing the stage makeup.”

Kwan winced at the thought of the blue-green face paint Paulina had shown him. He was not excited for that part of the play.

The girl to his left clapped her hands sharply, “Alright, main cast members gather round.”

Mikey, Valerie, and Kwan followed her to the back of the stage where she motioned for them to sit.

They did, Kwan lazily sprawling his legs out in front of him. Mikey looked the perfect part of ‘nerd geek’ and Valerie was…Valerie was incredible.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her when she’d first strolled out of the dressing room, Paulina’s Red Huntress suit clinging to her form. 

When he’d heard she’d scored the part Kwan wasn’t sure what to think, still wasn’t quite sure, but when he’d first seen her in the costume his jaw had almost hit the floor.

She looked like the spitting image of the actual Huntress; ruby red suit, perfect height, perfect curves…everything. Even her voice, muffled from behind the clumsily constructed mask, sounded like the real deal. 

He swallowed when she looked at him, expression inscrutable from behind the mask, and quickly lowered his eyes before she got a chance to see his flushed cheeks.

“So,” Paulina began, “Kwan helped me revise the old script last night and…I’m bitterly admitting that it’s a bit better now.”

He smiled softly, secretly filled with pride at the thought that his story would be told, and there was no way for his dad to stop it.

A new, but familiar, voice joined the mix as Danny returned from the dressing room, “You’re going to have to find another wig, Paulina.” The boy plopped down beside him, his costume nothing but a black and white blur in the corner of Kwan’s eye.

Paulina glanced up from the script in her hand, eyebrows drawn down into an annoyed glare, “What’s wrong with—” Then she broke off in a gasp.

Kwan, and the rest of the cast members in the circle, turned to see what all the fuss was about, each of them blinking in surprise at the sight before them.

Fenton was still Fenton; raven hair, awkward limbs, short stature, but he looked different in the suit. His long arms had substance, the rubber costume clinging to his curved biceps and accentuating his legs. The belt circled around his waste, revealing narrow hips and wide, v-shaped shoulders.

“Dang, Danny.” Kwan whistled softly to end the steadily growing silence, “You’ve been holding out on us.”

Instead of getting all flustered, like Kwan had expected, the teen winced with something akin to guilt flashing in his eyes, “Sorry about the wig. I left it in the dressing room.”

That seemed to knock Paulina out of her stunned stupor, “Why?”

“Uh,” Fenton glanced at Kwan before turning back to the director. “I have a polyester allergy and the wig’s made of it. Makes me get um, rashes.”

Everyone was still staring at him and the kid’s fidgeting was reaching caffeinated squirrel levels of hyperactivity; he was clearly feeling uncomfortable. 

Kwan decided to help fix that, “I think we should go over the script before we start talking wigs, don’t you think?” 

Paulina, after one more wide-eyed stare at Fenton, turned back to Kwan, “I guess you’re right.” She must’ve been out of it if she was willingly agreeing with him. “For starters, Plasmius and Phantom are having an epic battle on the main stage, so you guys are going to have to dig deep for some hate. Then, when Phantom’s about to win, the Red Huntress comes along and shoots him from behind.”

“Typical,” Danny muttered softly, shaking somewhat subsided, flushing when his comment drew the stares of the group again. “I mean, she does that a lot in real life, doesn’t she?”

Valerie’s expression was indistinguishable from behind the mask, but her voice sounded ticked off, “What do you mean? The Red Huntress is trying to cleanse the city of a ghostly pest who’s ruining lives.”

Danny opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by an impatient Paulina

“We are all entitled to whatever opinions we may have, even if they’re wrong.” She gave Valerie a pointed glare, “How about we continue with the actual matter at hand?”

The huntress snorted vehemently, her red-ruby suit shifting in the stage light, but remained silent. Kwan heard Danny’s relieved exhale and shot him a confused look, which the youngest Fenton pointedly ignored.

“So, as I was saying, Plasmius pays the Red Huntress for helping him with Phantom and she zooms off—”

“I object!” Valerie cried loudly, “The Red Huntress would never accept payment for capturing Phantom!”

Paulina sighed, “This is my play; will you at least let me finish?” Without waiting for a reply, the Latina continued, “Then Plasmius takes the unconscious Phantom to his ghostly lair and straps him down to one of those table things. I was thinking we could push some desks together, or do you guys think we should get an actual science-y table?”

Mikey cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses with a professional air, “You can rent gurneys that closely resemble those of the medical institutions and morgues, it is quite a simple process.”

“Great, you’ll relay that to the prop hands, understood Mikey?” Paulina shot him a dazzling smile. “Tell them to find some kind of straps we can pretend to hold him down with as well. We’ll have to make it clear to the audience that they’re ghost proof, otherwise Phantom would simply be able to escape.”

Kwan saw Danny shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye, his white gloved hands twisting anxiously in his lap. 

Unaware of her star member’s obvious discomfort, Paulina barreled on, “Plasmius will then reveal a new weapon, one that I wanted to be able to severe Phantom’s consciousness from his body, but Kwan thought it best if it was some kind of cloning ray.”

The football player smiled, he’d once read a story about cloning and was utterly fascinated by the process. He’d always wanted the opportunity to include it in one of his fictional writings.

“Plasmius tries to use the cloning ray on Phantom, but Phantom uses his wail to escape. Still not sure how we’re going to replicate something so powerful.” She paused, scratching lightly at her chin, “Maybe really powerful fans? Either way we’ll figure something out.”

Danny was definitely looking more nervous by the minute, his brilliant green eyes blown wide with some unidentifiable emotion. 

Wait, green? Was he wearing some kind of coloured contacts for his costume?

Kwan tucked that little tidbit of information aside and leaned towards him, whispering a soft, “You good?”

The boy jumped at the sudden closeness but nodded quickly, avoiding eye contact with the concerned football player.

Paulina continued on, getting to the part Kwan was the most proud of, “We figured that since Plasmius looks sort of like a vampire, with the red eyes and teeth and all, he’ll steal some of Phantom’s blood before he escapes and drink it, becoming like this super omega-powerful ghost.”

Valerie made a scoffing sound, “This play sounds stupid.”

She may as well have just killed Kwan’s ego with the amount of pain his pride felt at the insult.

“Will you let me finish?” Paulina said angrily at her, teal eyes narrowing. “After this, Phantom meets up with Pam and Bucker at Pam’s house, since Phantom wouldn’t have a house of his own cause he’s, you know, dead, and they’re attacked by the really strong Plasmius.”

Kwan nodded excitedly, the next part was his absolute favourite, even better than the attempted cloning; an anti-heroes redemption. All the best books had it.

“The Red Huntress, who was tracking Phantom again, sees how powerful the Plasmius ghost is and decides to help take it down. They all become like this united, super team. Think you can act that, Valerie?” Paulina shot her a glare.

Valerie remained silent; hands clenched angrily in her lap.

“So together they take him out, music swells, Phantom and Pam kiss, Red Huntress sees something in Bucker, and they all fly off into the sunset together. Sound good?”

The other cast members, mainly Valerie and Mikey, glanced at each other apprehensively, ignoring Kwan who was nodding enthusiastically. 

Mikey’s voice suddenly piped up, “Is Danny alright? He’s looking a little…sick.”

They all turned to see that Danny, indeed, was looking off; his usually pale skin flushed the same hue of rancid spinach.

He looked extremely uncomfortable with all their eyes on him, “Um, just a side effect of the polyester allergy. I tried the wig on before, uh, checking to see if it was safe.” Danny was clearly lying through his teeth, but why?

The journalist in Kwan flared to life as he watched Paulina’s eyes narrow at the boy accusingly, as if she knew something they all didn’t, “Right,” Her voice was dripping sarcasm. “Anyone else have anything important to add?”

Oooh there was definitely a story here, a real juicy one at that. Kwan shivered in excitement.

The assembled group shook their heads, Danny with particular fervency. 

“Good, then let’s get started,” The Latina clapped her hands together gleefully, eyes glinting with malicious intent.

She split them off into groups; the Red Huntress, Bucker, and Pam working together to learn their new lines, and Phantom and Plasmius working together on theirs. Apparently, the costumes were only out to ‘get them in character’.

They took opposite sides of the stage, Kwan more than a little glad he’d be getting a break from Paulina’s overcontrolling tendencies.

“So…” He tried to start when him and Danny were finally seated in their own corner, script in hand. “How was your weekend?”

The youngest Fenton arched a thick, black brow at him, “Why're you talking to me?” 

“What do you mean?” The jock blinked at him, “We’re kind of stuck together.”

“No, we’re not. We’re supposed to learn our lines, not start a buddy system. Why are you talking to me?” His blue eyes burned with a particular ferocity Kwan had never seen before. 

Weren’t they green earlier, what was going on? “Answer me.”

Kwan swallowed thickly, a sudden chill permeating the air between them, “I’m sorry.” He choked out, wincing at how empty the words sounded, even to him.

Danny cocked his head to the side, seeming to stare right through Kwan, “Pardon?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I mean it. Dash and I were horrible to you last year, to everyone. I know I don’t have any excuse for my actions, so I would just like you to know I regret every minute of it.”

This is the part where he expected Danny to refuse him, to rebuttal with anger and never, ever forgive him. Because Kwan didn’t think he deserved forgiveness; sure, he had his own personal reasons for acting out, but that didn’t excuse his behaviour in the least.

To his surprise, however, Danny simply smiled tiredly at him. The expression didn’t quite reach his eyes, their icy brilliance still staring ragged holes into Kwan’s soul. At least the turn of his lips looked genuine.

Then the teen sighed, like he already knew he was going to regret his decision, “I forgive you.”

“Wait, really?” Kwan had been ready to run, bolt of the stage and away from Danny’s vengeful wrath. Not that the youngest Fenton really looked capable of either action.

He shrugged at Kwan, “You guys weren’t that bad.” He chuckled dryly, “I’ve had worse.”

The jock winced at that, recalling the times they’d literally stuffed him into lockers, tripped him, insulted him, beat him under the bleachers after football games. Over the years Kwan had kept it mostly verbal, but Dash had certainly felt no such obligation. What could be worse than that?

Kwan had come to the shocking realization that his bullying was bad at the end of first year. Before he’d always been under the impression that the strong ridiculed the weak, it was just the way society worked.

It wasn’t until his little sister Kallie came home from kindergarten, art folder in tatters and tears staining her rounded cheeks, that it had dawned on him; his words hurt just as much as his actions.

He watched silently as Danny read over his script, heavy brows creased in concentration, “I know I can’t make up for it, but I really am sorry.” His voice warbled, “Dash and I shouldn’t have done what we did.”

Danny gave him an amused, but mostly exasperated, look from over his paper, “Dude, I already accepted your apology. Put the breaks on the pity train, I said I’m fine.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Kwan studied his face, “That suits not chafing anywhere, is it?”

The other boy laughed, reaching over to swat the jock’s arm, “Shut up, we have work to do.”

Kwan smiled, “We sure do.”

…oooOOO-DANNY-OOOooo…

When Paulina had been explaining the plays plot, the narrative had hit a little too close to home. Cloning, capture, betrayal? He’d gone through a very similar experience that had left him with a clone sister and a serious fear of weird looking weaponry. 

Sometimes he still jolted awake, drenched in sweat, the sizzle of electricity dancing on his skin. He hated those nights.

The anxiety of wearing a Phantom suit in public, as himself, had already left him reeling. When there was the added weight of memories he didn’t want, Danny thought he was going to puke. 

The rest of the week passed in a blur of line memorizing and hoping the school would get struck by some kind of natural disaster. A tornado would probably close it down for a solid week, maybe more if they were lucky.

Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday crawled by at the pace of a salted snail. He hadn’t realized how much his spontaneous flights and battles had broken up the monotonous routine of daily life until they were gone.

The weekend went by much quicker, thankfully. Before he knew it Monday was rolling around again like some unwanted aunt who popped up for the holidays, ate your candied peanuts, and vanished again.

When he left his house that morning, he longed to take to the air and push the limits of his flight until he was gasping. With no ghost sense going off, his core had been getting increasingly more intense; wafts of frost seeping off him whenever he was alone.

His other half felt…repressed, and he didn’t like it one bit.

As soon as he stepped out the door, he felt it. That same feeling he’d been getting all last week. Someone was watching him. 

They’d been tailing him since the Monday after the news announcement, even at school. The only time he hadn’t felt it was when Tucker and Sam took him out to see the new Joker Saturday night.

He resisted the urge to turn and glare, instead continuing to ignore the increasingly louder footsteps pounding behind him. Whoever his stalker was, they weren’t extremely lacking in the stealth department.

Danny leapt up the school steps two at a time and pulled the heavy glass doors open, wincing at the prospect of spending two more years here. He turned down the corridor past the front office towards his first class, ignoring the chattering kids around him. 

That is, he ignored them till one grabbed his backpack from behind and pressed him into the closest locker.

“I’ve been resisting for two weeks, Fenton, but this ends now; you’re coming with me.”

Danny, from his uncomfortable position against the cold metal of locker 1243, was only able to see a flash of red and white fabric before Dash was pulling him off toward one of the less popular bathrooms.

The youngest Fenton sighed, already knowing what was coming; a quick hit and run with the jock in a dirty restroom. Just how Danny liked to start his mornings, coffee and bruises. 

Evidently Kwan hadn’t converted his friend to his new, peaceful way of thinking yet.

However, Dash seemed to have other plans as he dragged him past the usual restroom towards a janitorial close, the very same one Danny would often go ghost in.  
Once the door was closed, Dash let go of his backpack and pushed him to the floor. 

“What the heck, Dash?” Danny asked while sloppily heaving himself back to his feet, narrowly avoiding bashing his head in on one of the cleaning shelves.

The quarterback loomed above him, lips pressed into a smooth line, “I know what you are, Fenton.” His voice was low, ominous even. 

Danny frowned, knowing there was no way Dash could’ve found out about his other undead half. Even with the aid of the Doctor lady’s reveal, no one had come to close to figuring it out. So, what was the jock getting at?

Dash leaned even closer and the youngest Fenton suddenly recalled his conversation with Tucker about the jock’s supposed sexuality.

Danny’s eyes widened in horror, was Dash…confessing?! 

There was barely an inch between them now; this couldn’t seriously be happening? Danny tried to press himself even further into the wall, “L-look Dash, I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got it wrong.” Was this why Baxter had been tailing him? Following him to and from school, the bathroom even?

He tried to slip out from underneath Dash’s outstretched arm only to find another blocking his path, “No,” The other boy drawled out, “I know I’ve got it right. All the signs are there, I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.” His hand wrapped around Danny’s arm, grip tightening until the smaller boy flinched.

Dash let out a ragged sigh before continuing, “It’s probably a good thing I didn’t find out when you started, otherwise…the things I would’ve done—" He leaned even closer and Danny couldn’t take it anymore; he was not interested in becoming Dash Baxter’s boy toy.

“I like girls!” He practically yelled it into the space between them, closing his eyes as the words left his mouth, fully expecting a knee to the stomach or worse.

When no vengeful fist crashed into his face, he risked cracking an eye open.

Dash was staring at him with a look of pure, unadulterated confusion, “Um,” The jock frowned. “I really don’t need to hear about your sexual preferences, Freakton. Besides, I see you and Sam getting all moony everyday.”

Danny sputtered, his mind reeling at the sudden change in tone, “B-but, I thought you liked…” A brilliant red flush bloomed across his cheeks as he realized he’d completely misread the situation. He was going to kill Tucker.

“Thought I was what, Fentina?” The nickname held no malice, only stark uncertainty as Dash leaned away from him. Then he barked out a laugh; a genuine one, not the fake cackle he used when bullying school lowlifes. “You really thought I—” His laughter burst forth again, the sound of it echoing off the enclosed walls. After a long bout of it he slapped his muscled thigh with one of his huge hands, “You thought I liked you?” 

Danny wanted to phase through the floor and fly away to somewhere Dash would never find him. He heard the Himalayas were nice this time of year. 

However, before he could do so, Dash clamped a hand to his shoulder and pressed him into the wall again, “Fenton, let’s face the facts. I don’t know where you got the idea that I was into you, or even playing for the other team,” The mirth sparkling in the quarterback’s eyes was quickly swallowed by a serious glare, “But even if I was, you’d have to be seriously deluded to think I’d go for you.” 

Danny winced slightly, both from the pain of his still slightly bruised body against the cement and the truth of Dash’s words; no one would ever go for him. If the whole thing with Valerie had taught him anything, it was that no one wanted weak little Fenton.

His gaze met the larger boy’s and he was surprised to see a flash of guilt in the jock’s baby blue eyes, though it was gone so quickly that Danny wondered if he’d been imagining things.

Dash cleared his throat, the pressure on Danny’s arm lightening imperceptibly, “I know you’re hunting Phantom, and I know you know that he’s here.”

Danny blinked at him, trying to let his brain catch up with the other boy’s statement, “Wait,” He made a time out motion, wrenching his arm out of Dash’s grasp without thinking. “You seriously think I’m hunting Phantom? That’s what this is all about?” He resisted the urge to laugh hysterically.

“Don’t play your mind games with me, Fenton. I know what you’re doing; me and Paulina have you all figured out.”

Apparently, Tucker wasn’t the only one leaping to ridiculous conclusions with the ease of an Olympic hurdler, “And how did you come to this…resolution?” The halfa asked, genuinely curious.

Dash poked a finger at Danny’s chest, scowling again, “We have our resources, but I’m warning you; hurt Phantom and you won’t see the sun rise.”

A smile tugged at the youngest Fenton’s lips at the irony of the situation. One good misunderstanding deserves another, “Alright, I promise.”

The blond looked relieved, “Good, your going to get yourself killed if you keep going after him anyway. I mean, look at yourself,” He dug a finger into Danny’s chest again, “You’re weak, tiny.” He gestured with the hand that wasn’t currently digging into Danny’s ribs at the makeshift cast on his wrist, 

“A real ghost would snap you like a stick, you better thank Phantom for going easy.” He pushed Danny to the ground and glared down at him, anger clouding his tone, “He’s trying to make this city a better place and you’re hunting him for the glory. Always knew you were dumb, Fenton, just not sick too.”

He spat at Danny’s feet before leaving, door slamming shut behind him. The raven-haired boy stayed on the floor, listening to the warning bell sound over the intercom before pulling himself up to his feet and heading out the door himself.

Tucker and Sam were waiting for him at this locker but Danny ignored them, still stewing on Dash’s words; the guy had a point, after all. Danny was weak, he couldn’t even protect people without getting bumped out of commission for two weeks.

Heck, even his friends had made him wait to get back in on the action. People could have died this week, killed by some wayward ghost in dark alley, and he’d been enjoying a vacation. 

What was wrong with him? Selfish, stupid, weak-- 

He sucked in a shuddering breath, leaning his head against the cold metal of the locker, and tried to will the thoughts out of his head. 

“Hey, Tucker grabbed his arm, concern lacing his tone. “You good? Did one of our…’friend’s’ find you?”

Danny yanked his arm out of the other boy’s grip, panic coating his thoughts. He did not want anyone touching him right now, “N-no, just thinking.” He waved over his shoulder, turning off into his first period classroom without a backward glance.

Had Danny looked behind, he would have seen the twin looks of hurt in his friends’ eyes before they turned and began to walk to their own respective classrooms.

The following Friday Danny, Sam, and Tucker sat in the Fenton’s living room after school, each of them toting various weapons. 

Their weekend plan to confront Vlad was about to be put into action now that Danny was healed, his cast off and the purple stain of his bruises faded to a light chartreuse. Danny, as always, carried the Fenton Thermos while his two friends each cradled an ecto-gun.

They weren’t technically supposed to be in possession of them, but what Maddie Fenton didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. 

Sam tightened the straps of her backpack, loaded down with various food items for the flight, and shot Danny a vexed look, “Just because we’re not mentioning it doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten; you still have to tell us what went down with Dash.”

Danny’s stomach flopped at the memory of what went down in the janitorial closet, his fingers clenching painfully, “I will. Let’s just take care of one evil mastermind at a time, okay?”

Sam’s gaze softened as she placed a hand on his shoulder, “Alrighty, but don’t you go and forget.”

Tucker entered the room, PDA in hand and a smug smile on his face, “Fake messages are a success, to whom it may concern Foley, Manson and Fenton are on a weekend trip for troubled youth.” He bowed low to the ground, beret nearly slipping off his head, “Hold your applause.”

Danny chuckled, hands easing their death-grip as he relaxed somewhat, “Thank you, Tucker. But troubled youth? Really?”

“Hey man,” Tucker gave him a once over, brown eyebrow cocked, “It fits the bill.”

“Better not go on my permanent record,” Sam said dryly, though her violet eyes were alight with amusement. “Can’t have that getting ruined.”

“Of course not,” Danny smirked at her. “You do a good enough job of that on your own.”

She gasped, smacking him on the arm with the barrel of her ecto-gun., making both Danny and Tucker laugh. Maybe his mother was right not to let them use the weaponry.

With nothing left to say the light mood became weighted as they simultaneously realized there were no more preparations to undergo, no more time to buy. 

They were ready.

“Goin’ ghost,” Danny muttered under his breath, the line now second nature to him. As the two halos of pale light wrapped around his torso, warping the air around him, he shifted into Phantom.

With a sigh he blew a strand of pearlescent hair from his forehead and held his arms out, appreciating the feeling of finally being in his other half again.

The cold sensation that flooded his body, once only serving as a reminder that he wasn’t like the people around him, that he was literally dead, was now a welcome sensation after having repressed it for so long.

A greenish blush dusted his cheeks as Sam grabbed his arm, pressing herself to him as they usually did while flying. He breathed in her scent and smiled as the familiar aroma wrapped around him, the smell of fresh air on mountain lakes with crisp pines and snowy plateaus.

Tucker seized his other arm with much less grace, the possible romantic moment shattering before Danny’s starstruck eyes.

His friend gave him a knowing grin, like he knew just what the halfa had on the mind, “Alright, let’s go kick some ghostly booty.” Tucker’s arms tightened around him like the limbs of an oversized spider monkey, “Present company excluded, of course.”

Sam muttered something under her breath about Tucker being hopeless before they took off to the sky, leaving nothing but an empty living room and disturbed air behind them.

(A/N:) Oh boy. It's all down hill from here, folks.

Also, take it from Kwan; don't be a bully. Thanks for coming to my Tedtalk.

Stay safe out there!

~ASL


	12. Explosion

…oooOOO-SAM-OOOooo…

Sam had always loved the thought of flying, of leaving her stupid parent’s and their stupid lifestyle behind. To finally be rid of her ‘Manson’ shackles and be known by the world for something else, to be someone else. 

Meaning that when Danny mastered his ghost powers, the very first thing she did was ask for a ride. 

Sam had been expecting a beautiful moonlit bridal carry, to feel the wind caress her cheeks while ‘A Whole New World’ tinkled in the background. Despite her ‘love’s overrated’ attitude, deep, deep, deep, down she was a hopeless romantic. So sue her.

However, that first flight had been anything but. When Danny had pressed her against him, his heart seemingly beating in her chest, she ended up clinging to his back like a toddler in a baby carrier. As soon as his feet had left the ground, she’d gotten instant motion sickness, whiplash, and the urge to vomit. Moving had been even worse; the wind snatched at her hair and snapped it back into her face maliciously, all while snarling in her ears and biting at her chapped skin. 

It was horrible and not romantic in the slightest. When they’d finally touched back down on the sweet, sweet Earth, Sam’s black locks had been a mess and her flesh a wind-beaten red.

Trial numbers two, three, and four were equally painful endeavours. It wasn’t till attempt number five that the Goth had found herself enjoying the flight.

Danny had held her in his arms, a small smile on his face, and gently lifted off with practiced control. He’d lifted into the air and then they’d been moving, the soft Amity fog surrounded them on all sides, the tiny drops of moisture tickling her cheeks.

She’d looked up when he finally went as high as her human body could go and simply stared at him, memorizing the excited twinkle in his eyes as he stared at the sky around them.

Now _that_ had been romantic.

All of this meant that she was a seasoned flight veteran, casting no thought to the wind mussing her hair and nipping frigid kisses on her cheeks. 

To travel incognito Danny had turned them invisible and intangible, making the combined weight of Sam and Tucker light enough to transport while ensuring no one saw them from below. The last thing they needed was a news take about Danny Phantom abducting local teens.

One of the sensations she loved most about flying, second only to the freedom she felt in the air, was the feeling of Danny’s arm wrapped securely around her waist. The mood was somewhat ruined by Tucker’s presence beside her, but she leaned into the one-armed embrace all the same. 

The flight passed quickly, much too quickly in Sam’s opinion. He seemed to be flying extra fast, a contemplative smile on his lips for the first time that week.

After his weird behaviour on Monday, Danny had apologized for ditching them but remained oddly quiet about the source of his foul mood. 

Sam smiled as he looped in the air, back arching as they were suddenly upside down then right side up before spiraling towards the ground, Vlad’s sprawling mansion coming into view beneath them.

They set down softly in Vlad’s front yard that was more of a park, really, and Danny slipped his hands into theirs’ so he could keep them invisible. 

“You guys ready?” Danny’s soft whisper broke their silence.

Sam nodded before remembering he couldn’t see her, “Ready.”

Tucker let out an insulted snort somewhere on her right, “I was born ready, baby.”

Sam didn’t need to see him to know Danny had rolled his eyes, “Let’s go then,” He phased them inside without trouble and let go of their hands; there was no use hiding from Vlad, he probably already knew they were there.

They followed Danny towards the room were the iconic football pedestal rested, then from there to Vlad’s not-so-secret evil lab.

The lights flickered on as they entered, revealing a large screen. To their left was a containment device that looked like it was sized for a child. Sam saw Danny shudder when he caught sight of it. 

“This place gives me the creeps,” Tucker voiced Sam’s sentiment. “I mean, look at this stuff.” He pointed at an extra evil looking ray gun of some sort with a grimace, “Mega spooky.”

Danny frowned, turning away from them to study the dark corners of the lab, “Where is he? My ghost sense hasn’t gone off yet, so either he’s not home or he’s hiding somewhere in human form.”

Sam was glancing around the huge room-- trying to think of where a stuffy, egotistical man-ghost would hide-- when the lights dramatically blinked out.

Tucker’s unholy screech masked Sam’s colourful swearing at the sudden darkness. She reached out, trying to find something to grasp but was met with only empty air.

“You guys alright?” Danny asked, his ghostly aura illuminating the room somewhat. He purposefully concentrated on making himself brighter until even his faint freckles were casting a glow.

Sam frowned into the black as she made her way slowly towards her glowstick of a best friend; something was very wrong here.

“So,” Tucker spoke, narrowly avoiding a large wrench on the ground. “Do you think this is a power outage or the start of an extra grisly horror movie?”

Danny sighed, the small sound echoing throughout the room, “Knowing us, it’s the latter.”

The techno-geek shook his head slowly, “Well, been nice hanging with you guys, but we all know the black guy gets picked off first.”

Despite their banter Sam knew the boys were nervous; heck, she’d been feeling disturbed before they were thrown into absolute darkness. 

She was about to ask for their next plan of action when the screen in front of them suddenly flickered to life. All three of them moved into fight or flight poses, ready for whichever the situation called for.

On the screen there was…a woman. The same one from the news last Friday. Sam relaxed slightly, “Is this some kind of recording?”

The woman smiled, the size of her grin greatly enlarged by the monitor displaying it, “No, Samantha Manson, it is not.”

Behind her she heard Tucker and Danny gasp, Danny’s coming out more like a confused squawk.

Sam bristled at the use of her full name, her mind recalling all the times her parents ignored her request for ‘Sam, please’, “Who the heck are you supposed to be? And how do you know my name?” She managed to growl past her clenched teeth.

“Oh,” The woman scoffed. “Do you truly think so little of me? I know all your names; I’ve been watching you three for awhile now.”

Sam fought the urge to gulp, her powers of speech failing her. Tucker, however, was never at a loss for words, “Colour me creeped out and all, but aren’t you some kind of ecto-doctor? Where’s Vlad?”

She snapped her fingers, the sound echoing over the secret underground lab’s speakers, “Right here.”

Vlad suddenly popped into existence behind her, surprisingly in his human form.

“Vlad,” Danny hissed sharply. “So you are behind this.”

The woman chuckled softly, her eyes glinting at the ghost boy in a way Sam didn’t like one bit, “Silly Danny, Vlad’s not behind any of this; I am.”

Sam blinked her violet eyes at the lady before turning to her friends, “You guys confused as I am?”

“Yup,” They both intoned, popping their ‘p’s’ in unison. 

The woman shot Sam an annoyed look before her eyes flitted back to Danny, “I control the ghosts, I am the puppeteer behind this whole operation.”

On Sam’s right Tucker snorted, “’Pupeteer’? Amateur much?”

“I know,” Sam shoved her foreboding aside and turned to Tucker with an eyeroll, “Why don’t they go for something a little less cliché?”

The woman’s eyes flashed dangerously at them, “I knew you two would be an issue, I knew you would get in the way of my little game.”

Danny made a time out sign with his hands like they were back on their elementary school’s playground. Sam made a mental note to tell him how childish it made him look later; how was he going to intimidate villains if he looked like a toddler playing tag? 

“Hold up, before we do the whole monologue shtick, can you maybe explain who you are?” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m kind of lost.”

The woman’s pleased purr filtered through the speakers around them, sending little red flags waving in Sam’s mind, “Anything for you, Danny.” She leaned forward till the entire screen displayed her face, “My name is Doctor Katherine Idolon. I was previously a glorified secretary for the GIW’s last head ectologist, but he turned out to be a little too…  
narrowminded. I had to dispose of the whole ectology department.”

Sam’s mind paused for a moment as she tried to catch up with the woman’s words, “You mean, you killed them?”

Katherine inspected a lime green nail with a look of bored detachment, “Mm, not exactly. My ghosts took care of them for me.” She leaned forward with a sultry smile, “Would you like to belong to me too, Danny?”

He squinted at the screen, “Um, can we still not fight if I say no?”

Her nonchalance vanished, face darkening into an angry grimace, “Oh, don’t worry. Once I remove your friends from the equation, you’ll be much more…complacent.” She sat back, expression clearing immediately, “See, you have to want me after all, silly.”

“Oh, yeah?” Danny stepped forward, ecto-energy gathering in his palms, “You and what army?”

Every ghost they’d ever encountered suddenly flickered to life behind her, their faces slack and their glowing eyes drooping at the corners. 

The ghost boy chuckled sardonically, taking a step back, “Ah, that army.”

As Sam watched the ghosts hover listlessly, that familiar need to give all living things justice-- the same one that drove her to free the frogs last year-- flared to life, “What are you doing to them?”

Tucker’s voice joined her own, equal parts fear and wrath, “So you’re the one behind Skulker’s weirdness. How are you controlling them? Brain implants? I read about that once.”  
Doctor Idolon frowned at him, “I’ll reveal that in time; we have to follow the rules after all.”

“What rules?” Sam snapped, her anger getting the better of her. Sure, they were just ghosts; most of them with malicious intent, but they used to be people. Some might deserve getting tossed around in the Fenton Thermos occasionally, but not whatever sick thing this lady was doing to take away their free will.

“Why, the rules of the game we’re playing, my pets. Revealing my plan doesn’t come till much later. Step number 14, maybe 15, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh really? What comes next, then?” Danny’s voice, usually light, was riddled with a heavy undertone. Obviously the thought of the controlled ghosts wasn’t sitting well with him, either.

The woman’s smile spread to almost inhuman proportions, “You’ll just have to watch, silly.” She snapped her long, slender fingers again and a red light suddenly lowered from the ceiling above them. A piercing wail filled the air as the light began to rotate, the crimson luminescence covering everything and sending an instant headache stabbing into the base of Sam’s skull. 

“What is this?” She asked through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to cover her ears. “Your next ‘step’ is to deafen us with a fire drill?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Doctor Idolon pinned the Goth with an unimpressed stare, “It’s Vladdy’s self destruct sequence. I believe he had it installed to ‘wipe the slate clean’ if the need ever arose. Good thing I stumbled upon it.”

A feminine voice blared above the alarm’s wailing, “Fifty seconds to self destruct; you’d have to be an idiot to still be here.”

“Tucker!” Sam struggled to be heard above the cacophony of sound, “Do something!” 

He sent her a brief nod before running up to the screen’s dash, pressing buttons and muttering softly to himself.

She needed to distract the woman, but with what? Her eyes cast about the room fruitlessly before a thought entered her mind; monologue. That always got ‘em.  
“How’d you know we’d come here?” Sam yelled at the screen just as the monotone voice gave out a clinical,

“Forty seconds to self destruct.”

“Quite simple, really. Make the ghost boy feel a little threatened, dangle his secret’s safety before his nose, and the next thing you know—” The woman clapped her hands together gleefully, “He’ll be coming to confront the only possible outlier. Oh, honey,” She pointed a manicured nail at Tucker, a disappointed frown on her face. “We can’t have you ruin everything.”

Her eyes shifted and a look of deep concentration passed over her petite features. One of the ghosts, a suspiciously Dracula-esque looking creature, vanished from behind her.  
Sam barely managed to call out a quick warning when Plasmius, easily recognizable by his twisted horns and ruby eyes, winked back into existence behind Tucker and seized the boy by the shoulders.

The boy bucked wildly in the other halfa’s grip, crying out as the ghost’s claws dug into his skin, but Tucker’s arms may as well have been marshmallows for all the good it did him.

Danny let out an enraged cry and fired off a round of ecto-blasts in the mind-controlled ghost’s direction, only to have it miss when Plasmius teleported again, techno-geek Foley still in his claws.

“Twenty seconds to self destruct.”

Sam turned and caught Danny’s large, panicked green eyes, “You won’t be able to fly fast enough with me, go!”

He simply raised an eyebrow at her, ghostly tail taking the place of his legs as he sped towards her.

She should have known he wouldn’t leave her behind; that darned hero complex of his was going to get him killed.

Time seemed to slow, like when she’d attempted to bake gingerbread and poured the molasses into the bowl; thick, viscous, and irately sedate.

Sam felt arms around her waist, not Danny’s safe ones, but a pair that dug razor sharp claws into her back. 

She felt Danny’s fingers barely brush hers, felt her heart drop into her stomach as space warped. 

She was suddenly standing in a white room, a large monitor before her. There was a tiny recorded voice counting down and, though Sam wanted to simply be sick on the floor, she pulled herself to her feet and limped forward, eyes staring into the digital screen.

Time was still doing something funny as Sam looked through it at the room she’d occupied seconds before and saw Danny, left arm still outstretched as if he could pull her back through sheer force of will.

“Why aren’t you saving him!” She screamed at the woman in the chair, her eyes never leaving Danny’s.

The same robotic female voice sounded over the speakers, “Three, two, one.” 

Sam thought she saw Danny’s lips curl into a soft smile, giving a tiny little wave, before being bathed in fiery orange tongues. Phantom’s green glow vanished as the screen was replaced by a fuzzy gray static, the words ‘signal lost’ flashing in bold.

Sam stood there, refusing to accept what she’d just seen.

There was movement to her left that made her turn out of sheer instinct; it was almost as if, at the sight of best friend getting blown to kingdom come, her body had stopped working.

The Doctor (was it only last Friday they’d seen that stupid broadcast?) smiled that sickening grin at her. She was a small woman, the type you wouldn’t glance twice at if you met them on the street, but her voice was sickly sweet, “Night night, girly.”

There was a stabbing pain in her shoulder and Sam found her eyes suddenly falling closed, but not before a single diamond tear could make a silver tract down her cheek.

...oooOOO-DASH-OOOooo... 

Dash was turning the corner to his house after work, the heavy night air laced with a hint of damp pressing against his face. 

He’d started working at the nearby Nasty Burger during the summer when it had suddenly occurred to him, in a supernatural epiphany, that he actually had to pay for things.

With a huff he kicked a rock, sending it flying against his house’s tiled stairs. 

“You’re late,” A very familiar tone bit into his exhausted musings and he jumped back, hands falling into a clumsy defensive pose, 

“Paulina! What the heck are you doing at my house?” 

The Latina tossed her dark mane of hair over one shoulder and fixed him with an annoyed scowl, “We need to come up with a game plan for Fenton, and I haven’t visited since September.” 

“You could’ve called,” He snapped embarrassedly. “I would’ve told you I had work.” He plopped down beside her, the cold steps sending shivers down his spine. “How long have you been waiti--” He suddenly leaned closer, a suspicious glint in his eyes, “Were you crying?” 

“No!” Paulina rebutted quickly, too quickly. Now that he was closer, he could see that her skin was blotchy and wet, light traces of mascara still visible on her cheeks. She lowered her gaze to the Baxter’s freshly paved drive, lined by concisely planted and immaculately maintained cedar bushes, “I burned it.” 

Dash frowned at her broken tone; he hadn’t heard her sound like that since the whole Valerie debacle, “Burned what?” 

She dropped her head, hands clenching and unclenching in her lap, “I took your advice, figured you were right about it being an unhealthy...escape.” 

Realization flooded Dash’s whole being and he couldn’t help the small smile that twisted his lips, “You mean you actually torched the Phantom Tracker?” 

The Latina let out a very uncharacteristic grunting sound, finally turning her face towards him, “Yes, I brought it out to the concrete party patio. You know the one.” 

Dash nodded; how could he forget? That was the place where, surrounded by fairy lights and hoisted red solo cups, blaring music and the splash of a pool, he’d first kissed—  
He cut off that train of thought before his flush could darken further. “Yeah, I remember.” 

If Paulina was blushing at the memory of his lips on hers it was hidden by the darkness, “I brought it out there while my parents were at their weekly Friday night bingo meet, then lit it up.” 

“How did that...feel?” He ventured hesitantly, scooting a little closer to her hunched form. 

“Good.” 

“Paulina, you don’t need to lie-” 

“No,” She shook her head, meeting his eyes. “When I saw it burn it actually felt really, really good. Like,” She drifted off, struggling to find the right words. “Like pulling off a really nasty wet sock.” 

Dash barked a laugh, surprising both himself and Paulina, “That’s the metaphor you go for? Gosh.” 

She smiled, expression clearing, “Simile, not a metaphor. Don’t you ever pay attention in class?” 

“Nope, too busy scoring touchdowns.” 

She shook her head with an amused sigh, “Yeah, right. More like getting brain damage.” 

“Can’t knock it till you try it,” He snarked lightly, offering a hand to help her up. She placed hers lightly in his, “Anyway, now that the deep stuff’s out of the way, time to eat.” Dash squeezed her fingers gently before letting go, fishing his keys out of the pocket of his Nasty Burger uniform and jamming them into the keyhole. 

Paulina sighed again, smoothing her hair, “Idiot.” 

“You’re welcome. My parents are at that gala fundraiser, so we’ve got the house to ourselves.” The door swung open and Dash held it there for her, “Age before beauty.” 

She snorted violently and pushed him over the threshold, “Please, we both know who the pretty one is here.” 

“Me?”

The comment earned him a light smack on the arm and a breathtaking laugh.

Dash’s house was of a modern, somewhat-richer-than-middle-class size. The door opened to a high-ceilinged dining room separated from the kitchen by a marbled floating island, complete with rustic matching barstools. A glistening chandelier hung from the stucco ceiling above the solid wood table, decked out with a lace covering.

“I see your mother’s tastes haven’t changed since my last visit,” Paulina spoke, her hands fumbling with the light switch. “Chandeliers new, though.” 

Dash kicked his shoes off and unceremoniously dumped his bag by the door, “If anything they’ve gotten more elaborate. I swear, someday she’s going to ‘interior design’ us out of house and home.” 

Paulina yanked one of the kitchen cupboards open and gave a cry of victory, “I knew it! You’re too predictable, Baxter.” She waved an unopened bag of Dorit*s in front of his face, “Now, let’s get down to business.” 

Dash shook his head at her antics as he pulled a box of cereal out, cheerios spilling everywhere as he haphazardly poured himself a bowl, “What business?” 

She simply scoffed, orange dust already coating her fingers as she plopped down on one of the barstools, “Danny Fenton, ghost hunter extraordinaire. Ring a bell?” 

He smiled coyly, swiping a chip from the bag as he sloshed the milk in. “Ah, that business.” 

“I mean, what are we going to do? We can’t just let him terrorize Phantom, especially with the school’s new hunter open policy.” 

“What policy?” Dash hadn’t heard anything, “I thought the school board was still banning them from the premises.” 

“Nope,” Paulina’s eyes got stormy. “They’ve decided to let them come in as long as they don’t carry weapons.” 

“Phantom’s thmart; he won’th get caught,” Dash swallowed thickly, waving his spoon in her direction. “I mean, it’s already been a year and a half of him dodging them.”

“Still,” The scent of her cheese-infused breath as she leaned across the counter was absolutely disgusting, and it made him smile; he loved it when she let loose.

At school or in public, she was always uptight. Always putting on airs for whoever could be watching. He’d missed seeing her just be herself. When they were dating, he’d gotten to wake up to her messy bedhead, watch romcoms that made them both cry, and kiss her—

No, no no no no no. Bad train of thought. Bad Dash.

He felt like hitting his head on the bar’s counter-top; he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this anymore.

A voice interrupted his self-deprecation, “You good there?” Paulina was staring at him, a stray spot of cheese dust on her face. He didn’t care how cliché it was, he wanted to reach over and wipe it off her face. With his lips.

He cleared his throat, scanning the room for something that wasn’t Paulina. There, dirty dish rags weren’t Paulina like at all; he focused on those, “I’m, uh, fine. How about you?”

She raised an eyebrow at him skeptically but followed his lead in changing the conversation anyway, “Good, actually. Now, what are we going to do about Danny?”

The jock shifted on his stool, trying to refocus on the task at hand, “I mean, I already talked to him earlier. Told him to lay off Phantom or there’d be consequences.”

“You didn’t…hurt him, did you?” He could’ve sworn she sounded almost worried over Fentina’s wellbeing. 

“I don’t think I did,” His stomach twisted guiltily as he recalled the boy’s broken position on the floor, the way Dash’s words had caused him pain. “I manhandled him a bit but nothing too serious.”

“Do you think that’ll be enough?” She mused, “You’ve been keeping an eye on him since we found out, right?”

“Yeah, I tailed him everywhere. Kid literally has no life; didn’t leave his house once.” Dash snorted. “I think we’ve got the whole Fentonail situation under control.”

“I guess you’re right. You still got an Xb*x?” She hopped off the stool and headed over to the adjacent living room, only to freeze, her gaze pinned to the floor. “That’s quite the stain you’ve got there.” Her voice warbled, causing Dash to glance curiously at her. 

“Huh?” He moved to her side, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the other space. On the white shag carpet of his living room was a huge, red stain.

Paulina turned to him, then back to the dark interior of the room before them, “Please tell me you’ve had wine recently?”

“My parents would never drink over their precious floor,” His voice lowered to a whisper. “I don’t think we’re alone in here.” He squinted into the black, trying to distinguish any familiar shapes. 

There was a human-esque lump on one of the newer coaches, barely visible against the muted glow from the curtains, and Dash felt his throat constrict.

He didn’t have siblings and he knew no one else was home. Could it be…?

Dash took another step into the room, Paulina right beside him, and quickly turned on the living room lamp, leaping behind Paulina when light flooded the room.

They let out twin sighs of relief when they saw that the shape was really just a heap of twisted blankets and pillows.

Paulina laughed breathlessly, throwing herself onto the couch, “Wow, for a second I actually thought there was someone here.”

Dash joined her, sinking back into the fabric, “Me too. Thought I was going to have to defend you till me dying breath from some creep.”

The Latina punched his shoulder teasingly, “Yeah, right. You literally just jumped behind me at the sight of a pillow.”

He rubbed his shoulder, grinning shamelessly at her, “So, now what? You want to watch something?”

She laid her legs out on his, pulling the blanket up to her chest, “Guess so, what’re you feeling?”

Dash leaned towards the coffee table, being extra careful not to disturb her legs, and grabbed the remote, “I’m feeling ‘cheesy Netfl*x original’, what about you?”

The girl laughed softly, “Sounds like a plan.”

He’d just pulled up the streaming service and moved to the ‘Recommended’ section, when there was a loud shattering sound from behind them.

Both Paulina and he screeched as the curtain above the couch was abruptly yanked down, the rod conking Dash on the head as he cried out. Trapped under the voluminous velvet, the two could do nothing but squirm. 

Finally, with a desperate heave, he managed to yank it off and tumble to the floor, Paulina right behind him. 

“Are you okay?” He placed his arms on the Latina’s shoulders, scanning her up and down for any signs of injury. 

She nodded blearily at him, obviously still a little shocked that his drapes had seemingly just tried to kill them, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” He stood up, rubbing the already rising bump where the curtain rod had nailed him. “It sounded like the window broke.”

Dash moved cautiously towards the heap of curtain on the couch, heart in his throat as he saw a humanoid outline in the fabric’s folds. “Paulie…”

She moved up beside him, staring at the lump in confusion, “Did someone throw something through the window?”

“Not something, someone. Look,” He pulled it back, being extra careful not to cut himself on the many glass shards littering the scene. The closed drapery had protected Paulina and him from the brunt of it, but whoever was put through the window must’ve gotten pretty scratched up.

What he saw took his breath away and left him staring, speechless. 

“What?” Paulina poked her head under his raised arm and gasped, “Danny?”

For there, arm bent at an odd angle, clothes singed to a blackened crisp, and glass protruding from his pale skin, was the Fenturd himself.

(A/N:) Oof. Please don't kill me for this cliffhanger; I'll update soon as humanly possible. 

What I have planned for the next chapter is...really something. Hoo-boy.

Thanks so much reading everybody! I hoard Kudos and love comments, so if you have time to drop one that'd be great :p

~ASL


	13. Revelations

…oooOOO-DASH-OOOooo…

Dash stood with one hand on the curtain, mouth hanging open in stark horror, his brain still trying to catch up with his speeding train of thought.

Paulina blinked a couple times, turning from him, to the body in front of them, and back again, “Dash…he’s really hurt.”

He did nothing but stare at her, gaping silently.

The Latina took one look at the no doubt stupid expression on his face and leapt into action, literally shoving Dash aside, “Do you have a first aid kit?” Her voice was surprisingly calm, the only thing betraying her inner panic being the trembling of her hands. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to process the words leaving her mouth. “First aid kit? Paulie, he needs a hospital.” 

The Latina pushed herself to her feet and fixed him with a glare, “Then what? Tell them a beaten, bruised, burned body just flew in through your window? He’ll get found out for sure.”

Dash turned towards her; he’d much rather look at her familiar face than his injured classmate or the pooling crimson blood, “Since when do you care?”

Paulina glanced away guiltily, her hands clenching into tight fists, “Of course I care, I’m surprised you don’t.” She pushed Fenton’s hair back out of his eyes, taking note of the cuts on his forehead. “Besides, if he tells them Phantom did this to him the media will eat that up; ‘resident ghost hunter’s son mortally wounded by vigilante ghost’. I mean, can you imagine how bad that would be?”

Dash shook his head, trying to find a flaw in her reasoning. Was protecting Fenton’s secret Phantom-hunting worth the freak’s life? Wouldn’t he rather his parents know about his ghost fighting than be dead? 

“Dash,” Paulina wheedled, her teal eyes pulling him in. “Please, for me?”

He’d never been able to win against that look, not even when they were kids. “Alright, what do you need me to do?”

“Help me get him out of these curtains and lay him out on the couch,” She grabbed the unconscious boy’s arms and heaved them up, Fenton’s stupid head lolling with the sudden motion.

Dash pulled the curtains out from underneath his limp form, ignoring the glass that nicked at his bare hands, then pulled the boys legs up and helped her move him.

Once they’d set him down, Paulina with gentle ease and Dash with burning vehemence, she put an ear to the boy’s chest and a finger at his wrist. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” Dash kneeled beside her, staring at Fenton’s blue tinged face in apprehension. 

Wait, blue tinged?

“Move out of the way!” Paulina said with urgency, her hands already starting to pump up and down on the scrawny boy’s chest. “He’s not breathing!”

Dash watched her perform the technique they’d learned from first year health class dispassionately; he still wasn’t sure this if this was actually happening. Fenton couldn’t actually be dying on his couch, right?

Paulina bent down and pulled the boy’s mouth open, breathing into it. When nothing happened, she began to repeat the process, putting her whole body into the action until her knees were smashing rhythmically on the carpeted floor.

She pulled his mouth open again, pinching his nose shut, only to have pale hand seize her arm, wide blue eyes meeting her own. 

The boy she’d just been performing CPR on let out a wet cough, his back arching and his hands scrabbling at the couch. He blearily blinked at his surroundings and let out a strangled, “What the hel--” Before his eyes fluttered closed once more. 

Paulina pressed an ear to his chest and let out a relieved sigh, “His heart’s beating, thank God.” She pressed her head down a little harder. “It’s just beating really, really slow. And he’s freezing. Is that normal for post dead people?” 

Dash, from his place on the carpet, stared up at her with wide, worshipful eyes. “You’re incredible.” 

Paulina preened for a moment before snapping back to the grim reality before them, “Grab your first aid kit. I’ll stay here and make sure he doesn’t stop breathing again, he’s not quite out of the woods yet.”

When Dash didn’t move, she turned to face him with a tight-lipped frown. “Dash, now.” He staggered to his feet and off towards the bathroom, heart pounding uncomfortably fast in his chest. 

His feet trembled on the stairs and his hands clutched the rail so hard he heard his knuckles pop. The first aid kit was under the upstairs bathroom sink, covered in dust and grime; no one in Dash’s family had ever gotten hurt at home. 

He heaved it out and started the arduous trip back down the stairs, passing it to Paulina when he arrived in the living room again, “My mom wants only the best, so there should be a ton of stuff in here.” 

The Latina popped the clasps on the side and dumped its contents on the floor, sifting through until she found a pair of medical scissors. “I need to cut the front of his shirt open and you're going to help.” 

Dash sucked in a deep breath, pushing the fear in his stomach further down, and kneeled next to her on the couch. 

Fenton’s usual white-red tee must’ve been made of some high-tier thread because it was still pretty intact, only a few tears marring its stained fabric. 

Paulina brandished the scissors and began to cut the boy’s shirt from the bottom up, wincing with Dash when the cloth stuck to Fenton’s bloody skin. With their combined effort they finally managed to peel it back.

Underneath it were soiled bandages, wrapping around his whole upper torso. Dash couldn't contain his gasp at the state the kid was in; blood covered his skin along with some kind of green slime. There were odd black singe marks on his light skin accompanied with harsh, white scars. 

“Geez,” Paulina breathed out, scissors snipping through the bandages around the boy’s chest to reveal heavily bruised skin coloured a dark, angry purple. “Go get a wet cloth, we need to clean him off.” 

Dash nodded and hurried to the kitchen sink, wetting a clean rag, “Here.” 

Paulina gave him a tight smile before beginning to towel Fenton off, revealing more flesh, stained in pale greens and yellows. As Paulina worked, antiseptic in one hand and medical tape in the other, Dash asked softly, “What do you think happened to him?” 

Her eyes hardened and she pressed a little rougher than was probably necessary on the injured boy, “If our theory is correct, I’m guessing Phantom was involved. Hold this,” She passed Dash the now dirty cloth. 

He pinched it between two fingers and held it as far away as humanly possible. “You think Phantom did this? But he never hurts people.” 

Paulina raised and penciled eyebrow without looking at him, “Look at the green on the cloth, I’ve followed Phantom around enough to know that’s ghost blood. I don’t think Phantom intentionally hurt him, it probably just happened when my—” She sighed heavily, “The ghost boy was defending himself.” 

Dash shook his head slowly, “Fenton landing a hit on Phantom, though?” He crossed his arms over his chest, forgetting completely about the rag still clutched in his grip, “Ridiculous.”

Paulina made a small noise of dissent, “Hate to be the one to tell you this, Ball Boy, but Danny’s get a sharper set than you.” 

“Yeah, right.” Dash leaned forward to look for himself. “What the f--” 

“Language,” Paulina interjected sharply, placing her medical materials back on the floor.” 

“--Rick. Frick.” Dash finished, wisely deciding not to get on the bad side of the girl wielding the scissors. “He’s ripped.” 

From what he could see, Fenton had the build of a cross country runner; lithe and thin, but still strongly defined musculature. 

“I know, I guess those baggy clothes really were meant for something. Look at this, too,” She pointed a long finger at the pale scars lining the unconscious boy’s skin. There were nicks and cuts, even a few monstrous bites and cavernous gouges. 

Paulina sat back, running a hand over her sweaty forehead, “That’s about as good as it’s going to get. He wasn’t hurt too bad. My guess is that he somehow injured himself a couple weeks ago, ended up in an explosion today, re-concussed himself, then ran some kind of marathon to get here.” 

Dash gave her a sideways look, “And how did you figure all this out? The Paulina Sanchez I knew cried when she broke a nail.” He’d meant it as a joke, but her face hardened at his words. 

“Ever since Phantom first saved us, I’ve been thinking about how...selfish I’m being.” 

“Paulie,” He started, but she quickly cut him off, her eyes trained on Fenton’s limp form. 

“I want to do something with my life, Dash. I don’t want to be a model or a cheerleader.” She blinked, backtracking suddenly, “Not that those aren’t completely respectable career paths that should be totally and fully appreciated--” 

“I know what you mean, P.” Dash answered with a small smile, “And I don’t think Fenton’s judging.” 

She chuckled softly, “I want to help people. That’s why I've been doing online pre-med classes.” 

He felt his whole world tip as he stared at her, the only sound being Danny’s even breaths, “Really?” He finally managed. “Why not just take them with Tetslaff?” 

“She’s horrible, for starters.,” She laughed softly. “And I don’t want the other A-Listers to know. After the whole thing with Valerie I didn’t want anyone else to...leave me.” 

Dash crossed his legs next to her and gently took her hand in his own, “Can I tell you something?” 

She looked at their linked hands instead of his face, “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me no matter what I say.” 

“I love chemistry.” 

She barked out a laugh, turning to him with an incredulous look on her face, “You? Science? You’re kidding.” 

“No, ever since grade seven I’ve been obsessed with it. I love the way everything just has a reason for being, for mixing and working. A method.” He shrugged his shoulders, suddenly feeling exposed. “So, now we know each other’s dark, dirty secrets.” He faced her and found she’d moved even closer, her breath hitting his cheek and he found himself unable to tear his gaze from her lips. 

He watched as they quirked up into a coy grin, their pink hue catching the light, “I think I could get used to the sound of Dash Baxter: geek extraordinaire.” 

Dash leaned even closer, their breath mingling and eyes closing when the Ghostbusters theme song suddenly filled the air. They each stumbled back at the sudden sound, pupils dilated. 

“That yours?” Dash gasped out, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead as he tried to steady his trembling hands. 

Paulina glanced at Fenton, “I think it’s his.” 

Dash stared at the boy with narrowed eyes. It would be Fenton’s phone that interrupted them. The kid was even messing with him from beyond the realm of consciousness; typical. He cleared his throat, hoping Paulina couldn’t notice his fervent flush in the lack of light, “Do you want to get it?” 

Paulina reached her hand into one of Fenton’s tacky side-pants pocket (What was he trying to be? Some kind of commando?) and retrieved a huge, cinderblock phone. The words ‘Fenton’ where printed on it in at least six different places. 

The caller ID flashing across the phone was an unknown number zoned for Amity. Weird.   
“Should we answer it?” Dash asked hesitantly. 

Paulina nodded, “It could be one of his friends looking for him.”

“Do you think they’re in on his Phantom hunting secret, too?” 

She gave him an unimpressed frown, “Of course they are; have you seen those three? They’re thick as thieves, or whatever.” She pressed the green answer button then the speakerphone icon. 

“Hello?” A voice purred from the other end, one Dash felt he should recognize. 

“Hello? Who do I have the burden of speaking too?” Paulina sassed, putting a hand on her hip and glaring at the tiny device. “I was busy.” 

Dash felt the blush return to his neck and ears as he avoided eye contact with her. 

“Answer me first,” The voice, decidedly female, said smugly. 

“Paulina Sanchez, now who are you?” 

There was a low, chilling laugh, “So he found another girl already, tut tut.” 

“What do you mean?” Dash interjected, a little perturbed by her tone. 

“Oh? And is that the Baxter boy? How quaint; this just keeps getting better and better.” The way she said his name sent little red flags waving before his eyes; he had to repress the urge to shudder. 

“Since you clearly know who we are, might I have the pleasure of your name?” Paulina said, her tone filled with enough venom to kill a horse. 

“No,” The woman answered lightly. “Are you with Danny right now?” 

Paulina shook her head at Dash when he opened his mouth to answer, “That’s none of your business, cougar.” The Latina placed a hand on Fenton’s arm with a fierce look gathering in her eyes, “Not unless you tell us who you are.” 

The woman tutted again, though she sounded pleased with Paulina’s answer, “Smart girl. Now that I know he survived--” 

“Survived?” Dash interrupted, polite as ever. “Survived what? What did you do to him?” 

“He’ll tell you when he comes round, I’m sure.” There was a short, static silence as the woman seemed to calculate something under her breath, “Unless I misjudged the power of the blast.” 

“You tried to blow him up?” Dash’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, had this woman seriously just confessed to attempted murder over the phone? 

Paulina ignored his mounting horror and posed a question of her own, “What do you mean he already found another girl?” 

“With Sam here with me, I simply didn’t expect him to move on quite so quickly.” 

The Latina evidently didn’t like what the woman was implying, “It’s not like that, where’s Manson?”   
“Ah, now for the next step of my game. Would you be a darling and tell Danny dearest that, if he ever wants to see his little Goth and sidekick Foley alive again, he needs to turn himself into--” There was a short beep as Paulina pressed the red call button, effectively putting an end to the woman’s negotiations. 

“What’d you do that for?” Dash said angrily, snatching the phone from her hand and glaring at the blocked number. “Now we don’t know where those two losers are!” 

Paulina frowned at him, “That’s the point; now we can wait for Danny to wake up and explain what the heck is going on.” She rubbed her forehead, eyes closing as she gathered her thoughts, “I mean, if this whole thing’s not some lame attempt at a joke, that lady’s not going to hurt her only bargaining chips.” 

Dash gave her an exasperated stare, “So we’re just going to ghost the potential terrorist?” 

She rolled her eyes at his theatrics, “She’s not a terrorist, Dash. Worst case scenario this is all some elaborate hoax by Foley to get back at us for all the bullying we’ve dished out over the years.” 

“Seems like a bit much for a practical joke,” He muttered back, gesturing at Fenton’s freshly wrapped chest and the mess of first aid supplies next to him. 

Paulina nodded, “I know, it’s just a lot to...process.” 

They both jumped as Fenton’s phone began to ring again, the theme song creating an eerie atmosphere in the dimly lit room. With a deft push, Paulina turned the ringer off, “What did we just get involved in, Dash?” 

He shook his head, absently wondering when his parents would get home, “Nothing good, that’s for certain.” 

The Latina nodded then proceeded to voice his thoughts, “When are your parent’s home?” 

Dash simply shrugged, “Usually around midnight, do you think we should move him?” He gestured at the pain that’d been plaguing his life since daycare currently taking up space on his favourite couch. 

Paulina frowned contemplatively, fingers idly tugging at the carpet threads, “If he managed to get all the way from...wherever this happened to your house, it’s more than likely he doesn’t have any spine or neck injury. Didn’t feel like anything was broken, either.” 

“Why did he come to my house? His freaky parents not home or something?” 

She mimicked Dash’s shrug from earlier, “Maybe you were closer.” 

“Well, you want arms or legs this time?” 

The girl wrinkled her nose at Fenton’s form, “Definitely legs.” 

“Alrighty then, up we go,” He gently grabbed the kid’s arms, wincing as his hands brushed against the bandages there, while Paulina grabbed his skinny ankles. 

“On the count of three,” She murmured softly, her own fingers tightening their hold. “One, two, three.” 

They both pulled him up, grunting in surprise when he turned out extremely light. It felt like half of him was nothing but air. “For such a butch guy he’s not very heavy,” Dash chirped bitterly, still salty that the little shrimp was secretly packing. 

Paulina nodded, following Dash up the stairs with Fenton suspended limply between them. The guest bedroom, master bedroom, third bathroom, and Dash’s room were all located on the third floor of Dash’s house, spaced consecutively down a wide hall. 

When they reached Dash’s bedroom, he had to lower his half of Fenton to the floor in order to get the door open. “Welcome to my humble abode,” He snarked sarcastically once Fenton’s arms were secure once more. “Let’s just plunk him on the bed.” 

“Place gently,” Paulina corrected, a firm set to her tone. Dash rolled his eyes but did as she asked, lining Fenton’s head up with the pillow before setting him down on top of the comforter. 

They both let out twin sighs of relief, Dash sinking to the floor while Paulina pulled his swivel desk chair over. 

It didn’t look like the kid had even stirred despite his move; dark brows still drawn over even darker lashes. 

“He looks angry,” Dash remarked conversationally as Paulina placed a hand on Fenton’s forehead. 

“He’s oddly cold, too. Most people would be feverish, but he’s freezing.” 

The quarterback grunted, resting his chin on the mattress and crossing his legs on the floor, “Now what?” He asked sleepily.

“Now we just make sure he keeps breathing,” Paulina pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around them, the chair wobbling underneath her at the movement. “Shouldn’t be--” She yawned widely, looking like a tired cat, “--Long now.” 

Dash remembered wanting to yawn, but wasn’t sure if he actually ever got around to doing it before falling into a deep, deep sleep. 

...oooOOO-PAULINA-OOOooo... 

She probably would’ve slept straight through the night were it not for her wild sleeping habits. 

At home she had a full, queen sized bed to flop around in like a fish, but it was rather difficult to do sleep parkour in an office chair. 

Which is why one second she found herself having a wild dream about cantaloupe, and the next flailing around on Dash Baxter’s floor at some unholy hour of the night. 

Dash, still resting his chin on the bed (he slept like an angel; had ever since they were young enough to have sleepovers without their parents getting scandalized) raised his head blearily at the noise. 

The desk light was still on so at least she could see as she stood up, rubbing the kinks out of her lower back with a grimace. 

Dash blinked at her, stretching his arms over his head with a cacophony of tiny pops. 

“Good morning,” Paulina muttered sarcastically, gesturing at the digital clock by his head that displayed a horrifying 1:22 AM. 

He blinked at it once before muttering a couple low curses, “Dang, how’s the kid?” 

She turned her attention to Danny, having honestly forgotten about his presence over the sight of Dash’s bed head, to see him still stretched out on the bed. “Seems fine, though I’m surprised he didn’t wake up when I fell out of your chair.” 

Dash snorted at her; legs stretched out before him as he rotated his neck. Paulina reached out a caramel hand towards Fenton’s forehead, planning on checking his temperature. 

Her hand's journey was abruptly interrupted by a pale, bandaged hand grabbing it. Fenton’s eyes suddenly blazed open, a brilliant, icy blue that seemed to glow in the low lamplight. 

Paulina froze, his freezing grip on her arm sending goosebumps down her spine. Dash yelped, crabbing backwards till he was a safe distance from the boy on the bed, “What the heck, Fenton?” 

Danny’s glowering eyes lightened, the snarl on his lips fading at the sound of Dash’s voice. He blinked down at his death grip on Paulina’s arm, then back up at her face, 

“Paulina?” He croaked, turning to squint at the room’s other occupant, “Dash? What the...” He let go of her arm, grimacing at the harsh red fingermarks ghosting her skin. His voice was a low croak, raspier even than the smokers’ outside of Casper high. 

Dash stood up, dusting his pants off like he didn’t just scuttle halfway across the floor, “Why are you here? What happened?” 

Danny stared at him, seemingly processing his words, “Where is here?” 

Paulina tried to smile reassuringly despite the jitters wracking her hand, “You’re in Dash’s room. You busted up his window and scared us half to death. We patched you up a bit. You were in pretty...” She paused, searching for the right words. “Uh, rough shape.” 

Danny sat up slowly, face blank despite the obvious pain he was in, “I remember the lab, then the lights going out.” He mused, more to himself than them, “Then the explosion and--” He lurched forward suddenly, swinging his legs over the bed with a frantic clawing motion at the sheets. “Sam!” 

Paulina tried to push him back, but it was almost as if her hands went right through him. The injured teen hit the floor, only managing one step before falling to his knees on the hardwood. An angry hiss escaped his mouth and he glared savagely down at his swollen ankle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Paulina kneeled next to him. “Your ankles pretty hurt, might be sprained.” 

Danny’s eyes didn’t leave the floor, his face hidden from view. Suddenly an inhuman growl, starting somewhere in his chest and pushing past his chapped lips, climaxed as his fist collided with the floorboards. 

There was a splintering crash and an angry yell from Dash, “Oi! That’s my floor!” The quarterback charged over, spitting mad. 

Paulina sent him a quelling look and turned her attention back to the other boy, “Danny, look at me.” 

The teen shuddered slightly but turned to face her anyways, “What?” His voice was low, frustrated. Dangerous.

Was this actually Danny Fenton, crouching shirtless on the floor before her, a snarling frown on his face? 

A dark, clouding thought suddenly occurred to Paulina, “What school does your sister go to?” Her stern, demanding tone made the other teen pause, blue eyes widening, 

“Uh, some ivy league university. I don’t remember what it’s called. Why is this relevant?”

Ever since Phantom’s possession in the mayor incident came to light (a topic still strongly debated by many) the people of Amity had been wary of any sudden strange behavior from unexpected sources, like this unanticipated hostility from Fenton. It became such a concern for the citizens that Manson’s parents had even arranged an exorcist for their freak daughter. 

It didn’t work, obviously; there was no casting out that demonic of a personality. 

Danny stared at her, still confused. “You going to answer me or keep staring off into space?” 

Dash visibly bristled at the other boy’s tone. Voice taut with the anger he was obviously suppressing, “I wouldn’t talk to her like that, Fenton. She just spent half her night keeping you alive. Heck, she even brought you back to life.”

“None of that Dash,” Paulina muttered, though a dark blush was staining her cheeks. “I just thought you might not be fully…you.”

Danny, whether it was from the pain of his injuries or his sleepy state, seemed a little slow on the uptake, “Come again?”

“She means you might be overshadowed, dingus. You just punched a frickin hole in my hardwood floor, something’s gotta be wrong.” Dash’s voice rose, “And you still haven’t apologized for that.”

The Fenton in question winced, “Sorry.” He tried to get to his feet only to close his eyes, breath coming in shallow bursts. “Ow.” 

Dash’s frown was deeper than the Mariana Trench but he reached down a hand to the struggling boy anyway, helping him off the floor and back onto the bed. 

Once they were all seated again, Paulina righting the forgotten desk chair and Dash cross legged on the floor, none of them were sure how to begin. 

“So,” Dash and Danny said at the same time, Dash ducking awkwardly before motioning for his punching bag to continue. 

“Well,” The bandaged boy crossed his arms over his chest, eyes cast to the floor. “I guess you guys want an explanation.” 

“That would be nice,” Paulina spoke softly from Dash’s left. “But we understand if you don’t want to tell us.” 

Dash snorted. “She understands,” He poked a thumb in her direction. “I certainly don’t.” 

Danny smiled tiredly at him, the expression stretching over too-tired skin and revealing a missing molar. 

Had it always been gone? Paulina couldn’t recall ever having looked in the kid’s mouth before. 

“I guess for this to make sense I’m going to have to explain some...other stuff.” His thick, black eyebrows cinched in concentration, a contemplative look obscuring his thoughts from them. 

“Let me just warn you guys, it’s not all my secret to tell.” 

Dash nodded slowly, opening his mouth before Paulina thought to clap a hand over it. “We already know freak-Foley and maniac-Manson are involved.” 

She smacked her forehead, letting out a groan. “I didn’t want to tell him 'till he was in a better frame of mind, you absolute idiot. Could you think before you speak, for once in your life?” 

Danny’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature of the room seeming to drop, “How?” The word itself was innocent enough, but for some reason Dash felt shivers run up and down his spine. 

This time, Paulina did manage to stop Dash from answering by clapping a hand over his mouth, her skin uncomfortably touching his wet lips. Ew. “Look, why don’t you explain firs--” 

Danny interrupted her, equal parts malice and worry fogging his tone, “How’d you know they’re involved in all this?” He leaned forward, “Did one of them call you?” 

“Not exactly,” She admitted hesitantly; if the desperate look on his face was anything to by then telling him a seriously addled lady-possibly-terrorist informed them would not go over well, if at all. She clumsily cast about for a way to change the direction of the conversation, “How do you, uh, feel?” 

What happened next was something she couldn’t quite put into words, even after the fact she remained unable to articulate it. 

An icy surge went through her whole-body top to bottom when Danny next spoke, his voice soft and wispy yet oddly assertive, “What happened?” 

Only two little words but Paulina suddenly found herself wanting to describe the whole day’s events in excruciating detail; anything for the owner of such a rich, persuasive voic—

Dash beat her to it, enthusiastically repeating the phone call with his hands folded neatly in his lap. 

Even in her detached state Paulina noticed how out of character that was for him. 

He had a happy grin on his face, like this was the sole purpose of his being, and the Latina felt an unusual twinge of jealousy; she wanted to be the one to tell Danny all about the phone call, not that egotistical rat-boy. 

However, as soon as Dash finished, the overwhelming need to answer dissipated, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water. 

...What had just happened? A few seconds before she’d been adamant in her resolution to keep him in the dark, why had she tried to spill her guts? 

Danny slumped on the bed, glancing guiltily at both of them, “Thank you guys for the help, really, but I have to go. Forget whatever it is you think you heard on that phone call, got it?” 

Paulina shook her head unbelievingly, “’Forget what we heard’, I may hate Manson but that sounded serious. She was ready to threaten us, Danny. We have to go to the police.” 

The youngest Fenton winced again, “Police would only make it worse, trust me. Besides,” He tried for a nonchalant shrug. “What would I tell them?” 

“At least tell us what’s going on so we can tell the cops,” Dash interjected, still blinking blearily after his explanation to Danny. “And what’d you just do to us? How’d you end up half dead on my couch? We deserve some answers, dang it!” 

“I can’t tell you,” The black-haired boy sat up as straight as he could without agitating his chest, his tone somewhat annoyed. “It’s not just my secret, you guys could end up in danger.” 

Dash pushed himself to his feet, storm clouds gathering in his eyes and thunder booming in his voice, “We saved your sorry life; you got blood on my carpet. I think it’s only fair if you told us how you ended up like this!” 

Paulina saw a vein twitch in Danny’s bruised neck, and she rolled her eyes. He was going to strain himself somehow and it would be all because of their stubborn, masculine idiocy. She might like boys, but gosh were they dumb sometimes. 

Dash still wasn’t finished, in fact it seemed like he was just getting started, “All you’ve ever done is screw up and get the people around you hurt. Now your freak friends are kidnapped and your silly sense of right and wrong might be killing them. You can’t save them, stupid; you’re weak, you’re dumb. You have all those brains and muscles and you just sit in class and drool at your waste-of space Goth girlfriend.” He moved closer, jabbing a finger into Danny’s wrapped chest. “You make me sick. 

The Latina was about to interject, Dash was going too far; the things he was saying might be half true, but now was not the time for them to be divided. She was about to open her mouth when the lamp suddenly seemed to darken, the room’s shadows lengthening.

“—And don’t even get me started on how you’ve been hunting Phantom. He protects our town, protects us, why would taking him out even occur to you?” Dash scoffed at Danny’s glowering expression, unaware of the sudden drop in temperature. “What, you jealous of the dead now too? 

From her vantage point atop the desk chair Paulina could pinpoint the exact moment Danny’s thin thread of composition snapped.

The light in the room seemed to swirl around the boy as his hands visibly shook with emotion. He snapped his eyes closed, rapid breaths rattling his chest. It looked like he was fading in and out of visibility, parts of him becoming see-through. 

She stumbled back, falling out of the desk chair for the second time that night when Danny’s eyes flickered open, revealing twin pools of crackling lime toxicity. 

Dash cried out in surprise, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away, “What the f--” 

Danny—the ghost, whatever it was—suddenly stood up, its feet hovering inches off the floor. A glowing aura pulsed outwards, swallowing up the meager light still illuminating the bedroom until the thing was the only source of it. 

“You think I don’t know I’m a screw up?” The voice was still Danny’s, but the echoing layers to it were something else’s. Something ancient. “Every. Single. Day. I try to help you people despite everything you do! Every time one of you stupid A-Listers throws an insult at me or beats me up I think, this is it; next time Skulker’s about to blast them to oblivion...I’m just going to watch. Maybe bring some snacks.” 

The creature’s hollow laugh sent shivers throughout Paulina’s entire body; this thing could not be Danny. It was impossible. 

The nagging thought that had been simmering on the back burners of her mind whispered softly, she’d always known there was a part of the equation missing. The whole Phantom Tracker, her and Dash’s ‘discovery’, to many two and two’s making four... she’d suspected, but could it be true? 

“But I have to be the hero. I would—could never let any of you die. Maybe it’s my obsession, who knows?” The thing’s voice seemed to deteriorate as it continued to speak, rasping and cracking on every other syllable. “Not me! I certainly didn’t ask for ghost powers. 

“So yeah, maybe I do mess up. Maybe every time someone loses something to a ghost it’s completely my fault.” 

Two white rings appeared at the floating boy’s waist but disappeared when the thing scrunched its borrowed face in concentration, voice rising slowly, “Maybe I’ve finally cracked under the pressure of being two people, having two lives and two worlds to maintain. Maybe being hunted by my own parents has finally set me off!” 

The thing’s venomous tone lowered, eyes fading to a less vibrant green. The air ceased its swirling and the frost gathering on the walls, crawling across the floor towards Dash, stopped its wandering. The thing with Danny’s face looked up at them, eyes empty and voice barely a murmur, “Maybe I am jealous of the dead. At least they’ve found peace.” 

Blood dribbled out the corner of its mouth and it sat back down on the bed abruptly, wincing and grabbing its chest as the same two white circles glowed around the creature’s midsection but were somehow suppressed again, leaving it gasping in exertion, arms wrapped tightly around itself. 

Paulina leapt into action, ignoring the pang of compassion she felt at the pitiful sight before her. She seized Dash’s arm and pulled him out of the thing’s reach, though knowing ghosts it probably had some kind of long-range attack. “What did you do to Danny, ghost? Why are you overshadowing him?” She barked, trying to sound intimidating. 

It leaned back on its legs, pressing Danny’s knees to the mattress and looked up at them with his face, the eyes no longer glowing ethereal green but a familiar blue. “Can’t you see? It’s me.” The thing must have been using Danny’s voice again because it sounded like his usual tired tone. “It’s Danny.” 

Paulina’s first reaction was to laugh, so she did, somewhat hysterically, “Yeah, right, you lying ghost scum. I know your tricks, get out of him!” 

Danny—no, the creature—rolled its eyes and drew a tired hand over his face. 

This ghost had gotten its hosts mannerism’s down pat. He—it—muttered something about ‘oblivious idiots’ before shakily getting to its feet; the earlier display having obviously weakened it. 

The creature looked them both dead in the eyes (pun not intended) before sighing and slowly saying, “Goin’ ghost.” 

The same two rings of light encircled him, but this time the ghost didn’t stop them as they traveled up his torso and down his legs, swallowing up Danny and leaving behind... 

Paulina gasped, a hand clutching her mouth; the little nagging sensation in the back of her mind, the one that had been picking at her since the very beginning, finally made itself clear. 

Beside her she saw Dash inhale sharply, the movement soundless, the shock too much. 

For standing before them, surrounded by a pale reflection of his usual aura, was the town’s own controversial hero. 

It had to be a trick. This...couldn’t be happening. 

He grimaced at them, tanned skin (or did it simply appear that way in contrast with the pearly strands of his hair?) glistening with sweat. He started to wave, but instead turned it into an awkward neck rub. 

A very, very familiar awkward neck rub. 

No. No no no no no no no-- Paulina stumbled back; fist pressed to her mouth. No. How could she not have seen it before? It couldn't be true…

But as Phantom spoke with Fenton’s voice, avoiding eye contact with both of them, something in her knew it that it was. Too many puzzle pieces falling into the right places, too many lies coming unraveled. 

“I guess I’ve got some explaining to do.” He muttered, still not looking at them.

It was while this revelation rocked Paulina’s world, her mind seething with chaos, that they heard the door handle begin to turn.

(A/N:) Cliffhanger again. Oopsie.

Also, this chapter is over 6,000 words long. SIX THOUSAND. That's the longest one yet, definitely.

Thanks so much for reading! What'd you think?? Spot any grammatical errors??


	14. Insomnia Pizza

…oooOOO-DASH-OOOooo…

Dash couldn’t believe what he was seeing, refused to believe what he was seeing. 

Danny Phantom sat on his bed, white hair mussed and eyes glowing a dim green. He looked a lot dimmer than usual, his aura luminous as a candle flicker. 

It was while Dash’s entire world was crumbling that he heard the familiar sound of his door handle turning. 

He squinted at it, trying to summon some reason, before remembering that his parents were probably home. And if they saw Phantom…

The teen shuddered at the very thought.

“Paulina!” He whisper-shouted at her, but she remained in a stupor, eyes never leaving the ghost on the bed.

Deciding to take matters into his own hands the quarterback dove across the room, seized the wad of blankets, and threw them over Phantom’s—previously Fenton’s—head.

Not a second later the door flew open and a well-built figure stepped in, tall enough for their shadow to fall at Dash’s feet, “I brought pizza, insomnia buddy. Left the waitress a tip too because—” 

Kwan, wearing a backwards baseball cap, an Old Navy sweater, and loose jeans, froze at the sight of a dumbstruck Paulina kneeling on the floor and Dash, standing above her with a sheen of sweat on his brow. 

The Hot n’ Ready pizza boxes hit the floor as the newcomer turned to go, a red flush blooming on his cheeks, “And I will pretend I saw nothing, erase it all from my eyes, ciao—” 

Dash leapt over the discarded pizza boxes and seized his friend by the arm, dragging him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“And I’m the princess of Prussia,” Kwan snorted as he tried to break away again, but the blond tightened his grip, not allowing him to escape.

“Seriously, Kwan, what are you doing here at,” Dash broke off, glancing at the digital clock. “Two thirty-five in the morning?”

Kwan blinked between Paulina and Dash again before turning back to his best friend and whisper shouting, “What do you mean ‘what am I doing’? It’s the third Friday of the month.”

Dash’s eyes widened in realization and he smacked his forehead with the back of his hand, “Right, I forgot. Sorry man.”

The Asian American squatted, rearranging the pizza boxes, then picking them back up without catching sight of the bed and its not-so-subtly concealed occupant. 

“Dash has insomnia?” Paulina asked, clearly still dazed.

Dash desperately tried to catch Kwan’s gaze; to tell him not to spill the proverbial beans. He’d purposefully kept the sleeping disorder a secret from her, though he had planned on telling her. Someday. Maybe.

But he definitely didn’t want her finding out like this.

Kwan remained perfectly oblivious, turning his smiling face towards the Latina, “Yup, he got professionally diagnosed at the end of the summer. Since I have it too, we made a plan to meet up every third Friday night at three.”

“You’re early,” Dash remarked dryly, treating his friend to a dark scowl.

Kwan raised an eyebrow at him, “And you forgot.” He popped the pizza lid, straightening its occupants with tender care.

While he was preoccupied Paulina rounded on Dash, lips drawn into a tight frown, “Why didn’t you tell me you had insomnia? I could’ve helped you!”

Dash winced guiltily. He’d meant to tell her, honest, but then… “With everything going on with Val and your mom I didn’t want to, you know.”

She stepped closer, teal eyes shining with a hurt she usually hid, “But we were still friends, right? Friends tell each other things; friends are supposed to worry about each other."

He nodded slowly, not sure how to articulate the swirling vortex of emotions ravaging his head. It had been like this then, too; him unable to communicate, unable to encompass all that he’d felt.

She didn’t deserve someone like him.

So they’d walked their separate ways.

He opened his mouth to answer when Kwan, who he’d honestly forgotten about (did that make him a bad friend??), suddenly spoke up from the middle of the room,

“Not that this conversation isn’t riveting, but what is that?” He waved a half-eaten piece of pizza at the unusually humanoid blanket mound. 

Dash slapped his forehead for the second time that night. Having forgotten about more than just the presence of his best friend. Which, yes, really did make him sound like a horrible person, he decided quietly. 

As his mind tried to scrape together an answer, the blanket shifted and Phantom (Fenton?) poked his head out like a frightened field mouse from its winter burrow, “Hi Kwan.” He said with a nervous smile, his fingers teasing the edge of the blanket absently. 

At the sight of white hair and brilliant green eyes the pizza box hit the floor. Again. 

Kwan leapt back, his hands tremoring as he stared at the ghost boy on Dash’s bed, “Why is…what the—” He whipped around towards the blond. “Why is Phantom on your bed, just what exactly is going on here?” He stomped his foot on the hardwood, landing it in the hole from Fenton’s (Phantom’s?) earlier outburst. 

He landed with a thud next to the pizza, holding his ankle with a grimace. 

Dash sighed and sat next to his ‘insomnia buddy’ on the floor, Paulina slipping back into the thrice abandoned office chair.

Phantom wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, looking much smaller than he usually with the heavy comforter enveloping him. “D-do you want me to explain?” He asked Dash softly, eyes downcast.

The blond blanched at the voice, so unlike Phantom’s, yet still familiar. Too familiar. 

He refused to think of why it might be resonating so deeply in his mind; maybe if he denied what his eyes had already seen then this whole situation would simply fade away.

“Yes,” He answered, proceeding to tell Kwan about how he’d gotten off his shift at the Nasty burger, found Paulina on his steps, the window breaking on them, literally bringing Danny back to life, then taking him upstairs. 

His teammate sat in silence for a minute, processing the seemingly absurd story his friend had just fed him, “But what was he doing in your living room?” He turned away from Dash to the figure on the bed, “And how could they have done CPR if you’re already dead?”

Phantom sat up, looking at them with tired eyes, “Just a sec, I can’t hold this any longer.” 

The same two circles of white light appeared at his chest and split upwards, leaving behind a shirtless, bandaged Danny Fenton. 

Kwan choked on his pizza while Dash, though he had known it was coming, stared with wide eyes. Paulina merely sighed in resignation, chin resting on her knees.

Once Kwan had finished with his incessant coughing, eyes bulging out of his head, he shouted,” Danny?!”

Phantom-now Fenton-held up a finger to his lips, eyes flickering to the door, “Please just let me explain, quietly.”

Dash cracked his knuckles slowly, as he often did when he was nervous, and fixed his gaze on Phantom. 

When they were all silent, waiting in breathless anticipation, the injured boy began to speak,

“First yea,r my mom and dad managed to complete their only to scale ghost portal in our basement,” 

The listening trio nodded in unison, each of them recalling the press release.

Danny’s hands tugged at the blanket seams until his fingers were a pale, bloodless white, “What you may not know is that at first the portal didn’t turn on, so I decided to take a look inside.” His gaze unfocused as he continued to speak, staring at something only his eyes could see. “I’m just glad Sam and Tucker stayed behind; I can’t imagine what might’ve—” He cleared his throat,

“Anyway, ever the klutz, I tripped over some spare cable and hit the ‘on’ button. Not sure why my parents put it on the inside of the portal, but what’s done is done.”  
Dash shifted, recalling when Fenton had inexplicably been absent from school for a week. No one thought much of it at the time, assuming the crazy Fenton’s had simply gone on a walk to Mars or something.

When he thought back, however, he remembered Tucker’s watery eyes and Manson’s abnormally short temper. Not to say she wasn’t always angry, because she was, but-- 

How could they have missed something so big?

“So what you’re telling us,” Kwan interrupted, though not unkindly, “Is that you died in your parent’s basement two years ago and have just been…what? Pretending you’re human?”

“You’re half right,” Fenton said dryly, like there was some joke they were missing out on. “The portal did electrocute me to death, but with the huge concentration of newly formed ecto-energy I somehow didn’t die fully. I became half human, half ghost; a halfa.”

“A halfa,” Paulina parroted, her eyes never leaving his face.

The boy nodded, “We’re not sure of anything definite, even I don’t know why I’m still here. I have some…friends, you could say, that think it was my steady lifetime acclimation to ectoplasm that allowed it to bond so flawlessly with my DNA.”

The science part of Dash, the side he was constantly trying to squash, flared up at the thought. Could that be possible? Would it be spliced, or bonded with the human DNA? How did ghosts have DNA? Where they really dead? Or where they some kind of creature that existed on an entirely different molecular pla—

He growled under his breath, trying to suppress the incessant questions while a scowl darkened his features. 

Fenton continued, unaware of the jock’s plight, “Others think it was my will to live that re-animated me, or the strength of my obsession. Though Sam thinks I don’t have an obsession,” He smiled softly. “She’s always trying to prove it to me.”

The ghost boy shrugged, wincing when his bandages shifted. 

“This is all well and good,” Dash remarked, his frown deepening when his voice came out as a hostile bark. “But you’re telling me that, this entire time, you’ve been the one protecting Amity? Lily livered Fenton’s been flying around at night offing ghosts?”

Argh! That wasn’t how he was trying to sound; wasn’t how he was trying to come across—he silently cursed his inability to speak as his brain short circuited.

The Fenton in question wrinkled his nose at the question, “No, I’ve been flying around at night apprehending ghosts and putting them back into the zone. There has never been any ‘offing’.”

Paulina leapt from her chair and began to pace, paying her wrinkled jeans no heed as her socked feet pattered on the floor, “No, this actually explains a lot. The absences, the weirdness, the injuries, the—” Her eyes widened as she spun towards Dash, “—The Phantom Tracker! The times all matched up because he was Phantom, not cause he was hunting him. I mean, how could we have not seen it before? They have the same faces, for goodness sake.”

Kwan sighed from his place next to the pizza boxes, as if he alone carried the wisdom of the universe, “’People see what they want to see and what people want to see never has anything to with the truth.’” He ignored the twin looks of confusion being sent his way and muttered, “~Roberto Bolaño.”

Dash, already well aware of Kwan’s frequent quotations, thought nothing f it, instead continuing with his interrogation, “But why a superhero? Why not a thief, a dictator? You could rule the world with that kind of power, but instead you decide to go around saving grandmas and kissing babies?”

Something flashed in the youngest Fenton’s eyes, something akin to guilt or remorse, “I’m not perfect, and I’ve certainly never kissed a baby, but as they say, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. I couldn’t just, not.”

Kwan grinned, “~Benjamin Parker.”

Fenton plowed on, “I never really planned on becoming a vigilante, it sort of just…happened.”

Dash shook his head slowly; only dweeb Fentonail could ‘accidentally’ become a superhero.

Despite his explanation, Paulina was still staring at the boy like he had two heads, “But how did you end up through Dash’s window? And why did we get that phone call?”

The barest trace of a smile that had surfaced on Fenton’s face vanished at the Latina’s words, “To tell that I have to go back a few weeks.”

Paulina sat down beside Dash, sensing, like the rest of them, that this was going to be a long story. 

…oooOOO-DANNY-OOOooo…

Danny could still not believe this was happening; that three of the schools most popular and prone to gossip members now knew his secret. 

They were staring at him expectantly, faces unreadable, and all but Kwan frowning deeply.

The halfa wasn’t sure where to start himself, everything had been happening so fast and his head hurt and his body hurt and his heart…

He simply wanted to curl up next to a perfectly safe Sam and listen to her heartbeat, to know that she was alright. Was that too much to ask?

With a heavy sigh he opened his eyes, which he hadn’t even realized he’d closed, and began to speak, “We noticed a few weeks back that Skulker was being particularly vicious, acting out and packing a heck of a punch. Then with that whole news release deal we immediately suspected Vlad—”

“Vlad Masters?” Dash interrupted suddenly, “Suspected him of what?”

Danny blinked out of his revelry, remembering that it wasn’t Tuck and Sam he was talking to but the three A-Listers. “Right. Back in college he and my parents had a mishap with a portal. Vlad suffered the consequences.”

“You mean he’s a ‘halfa’ too?” Kwan questioned.

Danny’s stomach clenched at the reminder that he and Vlad were connected in any way. “When he’s not posing as my mom’s stalker or coddling footballs, he’s terrorizing the town as Plasmius.”

Dash and Paulina looked shell-shocked, but Kwan simply appeared disgusted, “You mean I’m acting out Vladimir Masters, the worst mayor in Amity Park history, in the school play?” He shuddered, “No thanks.”

Paulina barked an unexpected laugh that echoed throughout Dash’s unnecessarily large room, “So that’s why you were so reluctant to play Phantom! You were worried about your secret getting exposed.” She rubbed a hand wearily over her face. “That also explains why you were so weirdly perfect for the role.”

“Any why when you wore the suit you looked just like him, or I guess looked just like you.” Kwan clutched his head, massaging his tempers with a bemused expression. “You probably don’t have an allergy either; that was just to stop us from figuring it out.”

Danny nodded guiltily. Despite how much his double life lead him to do it, he really did hate lying, “I’m sorry I deceived you guys.”

Kwan shook his head, lips morphing into a sombre line. “No, I understand. Revealing this at any other time would’ve been unwise. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.” He caught Danny’s eyes with his own and the halfa could see the sincerity lying in their depths. “I was horrible to you first year, and yet you, a ghostly powered teen, turned around and protected me. You could have done anything; made my life hell, but instead you saved the town.” He shook his head slowly, disbelief etched into his features.

Danny flushed with embarrassment, his ears and neck a hot red. “Um, no!” He waved his hands furiously. “A-anyone would have done the same! Besides, you already apologized. There’s no need to—”

“No,” Paulina cut him off softly, her eyes sad. “I too owe you an apology. I treated you like dirt then turned around and idolized you. I thought you were the most incredible ghost vigilante, I wanted to marry you.” She stood up, walking over to him and looking him straight in the eyes. 

Even though Danny was very, very over his past crush on the Latina her words still made his blush darken. 

The original trio had often speculated over how Paulina would react to him being the one she so openly professed her love of, but he was still woefully underprepared. 

“I can’t do anything else but apologize and hope you know I really am sorry for my actions. I was a complete hypocrite wanting to be like your one half while not recognizing it in your other.” She pressed a light kiss to his forehead then pulled back, smiling sadly at him.

Danny knew there was nothing romantic in the gesture, it was purely platonic. Almost sisterly. 

Kwan leapt to his feet and wrapped them both in a crushing bear hug, “I’d kiss you too, Danny, but I sense that’d make things awkward.”

Danny laughed quietly, a genuine smile plying at his lips for the first time since Tuck and Sam had been taken.

It felt odd to have the two people he’d once considered his greatest enemies around him, but as he searched his mind he found only forgiveness. Not trust, not friendship, and certainly not love, but definitely the potential for something new. 

Something…good.

“Alright,” He patted Kwan’s back awkwardly. “Time to release the person with the bruised ribs. Preferably before he dies. Again.”

Kwan let go with a squawk and stepped back, Paulina joining him with a laugh.

Once they’d settled down, Danny looked at both of them with a calculated frown, “All is forgiven. But,” He felt his eyes flash dangerously at the thought, his core flaring up in cold anger. “If you don’t make all that clear to Tuck and Sam once this is over, I will never forgive you.” 

They both nodded simultaneously. 

“My apology extends to both, just wish I could let them know,” Paulina said with a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing they’ve been helping you since day one?”

Danny, inching back into the downy blanket, nodded.

Kwan voiced a similar sentiment and the two turned to Dash in unison, their eyebrows raised expectantly.

Dash, however, remained silent; audibly cracking his knuckles with practiced precision.

Danny smiled at him; knowing no apology would pass the jock’s lips until he’d thought everything through. 

When Paulina opened her mouth, most likely to reprimand Dash for his attitude, Danny beat her to it, “I don’t want an apology if he doesn’t feel sorry.” His smile never fell, but the room chilled somewhat. “I have no need for empty words.” 

The smallest trace of guilt flickered in the blonde’s eyes before he turned away, staring out the darkened window with a frown.

Once the silence had drawn on long enough to become awkward, Kwan piped up in between bites of pizza, “So, you suspected evil ghost Vlad.”

“Right,” Danny nodded, holding out his hand for a slice. Kwan obliged him with a warm smile. The youngest Fenton watched the cheese stretch, slowly collecting his thoughts. “Since he’s one of the four humans that knows my secret, we immediately suspected him to be the cause of the press release. Some new, twisted scheme to get with my mom or something.”

“That’s rough,” Kwan remarked, reaching back into the pizza box for what had to be his third piece. “My sympathies.” 

Danny took a bite, trying not to reopen the cuts on his face as he chewed, “We decided to nip it in the bud and confront him immediately by flying down…wow. It was just yesterday, I guess.” 

It felt like ages ago that it had all happened; his fingers barely brushing her hand. 

All his fault all his fault all his fault all his—

“I take it the confrontation didn’t go over well?” Paulina asked quietly, unwittingly breaking him out of his thoughts. 

“No, it wasn’t Vlad. The woman had set us up. She figured out our next move, goaded us into a trap. And I fell right into it.” He clenched his hand into a fist, ignoring the way it made his bruised skin flare with pain. “She had some way to mind control the ghosts and used teleportation to grab Sam and Tuck. Then she blew the building up.”

Kwan, who had been nodding along with his story, looked visibly startled at this new tidbit. “Really? She just…” He blew out his cheeks, making a soft pow sound “So you don’t know who the woman was?”

“Yes and no,” Danny sighed. “She’s the lady from the ghost reveal, Katherine—”

“Idolon,” Dash interrupted, speaking his first words for the past few pages. “She’s the one that called. I recognized her voice, though it took me awhile to place it.”

Danny nodded at him, silently drawing him back into the discussion. “She was probably trying to negotiate for Tuck and Sam.” 

Dash pushed up to his feet, fixing Danny with an icy glare, “I still don’t understand why you ended up in my living room, or why you’re bothering with this story.”

Danny felt himself flush embarrassedly, his ears and neck a brilliant red for the second time that night. Staring at his lap and curling the huge blanket around his shoulders, he muttered, “I didn’t know where else to go, I guess.”

“Oh, oh.” It looked like a lightbulb had gone off behind Paulina’s eyes. “Your parents don’t know you’re Phantom, do they?”

Danny winced, his father’s threats ringing in his ears, “Let’s just say going home in this state wasn’t exactly an option. 

“But why’d you break my window?” Dash asked harshly, his hands clenching angrily at his sides. “You could’ve killed me and Paulie.”

“Paulina and I,” Kwan interjected smoothly, unfazed by the scathing look his best friend shot him.

“I don’t actually remember going though the window,” Danny mused, trying to recall the details. There was the explosion, his ice core going into berserker mode at the sudden heat. The impact shooting him through Vlad’s three floor house, which explained why his back hurt so much. Then a brief period of weightlessness before landing on someone’s car; now that had hurt. 

“I flew from Wisconsin back here.” He paused, thinking again. “I think I was actually planning on going to Valerie’s.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.   
He may have revealed her secret to her father, but that was to keep her safe. There was no way he was blabbing something so personal as the details of her other persona without her permission, especially to one of Val’s previous best friends.

“Valerie?” Paulina asked incredulously, “But she hates Danny Phantom.”

“I was delirious, if you recall,” He said with a small smile, not exactly lying but not giving his original reasoning either. “But then I lost consciousness and—” He made an arc with his hand and mimicked falling to the ground. “I mean, from above your houses are pretty close.”

“So you didn’t even mean to come here?” Dash seemed oddly put out by this revelation, which made Danny wrinkle his nose in confusion.

He’d known Dash for the past ten years yet still didn’t understand what motivated the guy. One minute he’s practically breathing fire and the next he’s acting like a kicked puppy.

The halfa had to withhold his sigh as he passed a hand over his face; would they object to him just…falling asleep?

The standard App*le ringtone sounded in the silence, so loud that Danny popped into invisibility with a very unmanly squeak. He was trying to work on controlling those, honest.

Kwan, watching Danny, leapt backward in surprise and tripped Dash, who fell on his butt with a thud. 

Paulina rolled her eyes and checked the caller ID of her ringing phone, “It’s the lady, should I answer?”

Danny popped back into sight, causing Dash to curse when Kwan startled again, “Only if you feel comfortable doing that.”

The Latina arched an eyebrow at the ghost boy and hit the green call button, her voice clear as she answered, “Sup b***h?”

“You are one hard number to find,” The alleged doctor muttered over the phone, sounding much less put together than she had in her previous call. “I had to hack the Amity Telephone Directo—”

“What do you want?” Paulina demanded, eyeing her nails with feigned interest. “Make it snappy and maybe I’ll stay on this time.” 

“Tell Danny I have his two friends, and if he ever wants to see them again—”

“Yawn, I said make it quick.” Paulina sounded relaxed, bored even, but Danny could see the tremor in her hands as she clutched the phone, her grip just a little too tight. 

“Hey,” Danny whispered softly, “Pass it” 

The Latina arched an eyebrow but seemed all to grateful to hand the phone off to him, stepping back as he put his ear to the receiver.

Dredging up the last bit of strength that was simmering within him, he spoke into the receiver, “Phantom here, heard you were talking ‘bout me behind my back.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the three A-Listers flinch, their eyes widening at his change in tone. He ignored them and instead focused on staying awake.

“Danny!” The woman squealed into the phone, sounding more like a lovestruck teen than a hardened kidnapper. “I missed you.” 

“I’d say likewise,” He shifted the phone to his other ear so that he couldn’t see the trio watching him, examining Dash’s gleaming trophies. “But my mother taught me that it’s rude to lie.”

“Witty as ever,” She snarked, dropping the flowery tone. “Now, let’s get down to business.”

Danny sighed heavily, “You mean threats? My favourite part.”

She chuckled into the receiver, “Now now, listen close and I might decide not to slit your pretty Goth’s throat as she sleeps.”

Though he knew she was just trying to get a rise out him he couldn’t help but sit up a little straighter at her words, eyes darkening as he hissed out, “Sam is not mine. She is not a thing. And I swear if you hurt a hair on her head—”

“Mmm, there it is,” From what it sounded like she was licking her lips, the wet smacking sound making him recoil from the handheld device. “I love how protective you are, how loyal. Are you listening?”

He wrinkled his nose, making a small noise of assent in his throat despite his disgust.

“Good. I want you to hand yourself over to me by this time next week, you’ll know where to find me.” Her voice twisted smugly, as if she were laughing over a secret whose true face only she was privy to. “If you get cold feet, I kill them both. If you’re late, dead. Maybe they’ll come back as little ghosts and join my army, who’s to say for certain?”

Danny ground his teeth, trying to push away the green haze clouding his eyes. “How do I know they’re even still alive?”

There was a pause as she chuckled, the disturbed air sounding like nothing but harsh static in his ear, “Oh silly, you can’t.”

And then she hung up on him, the sudden silence pressing against him. 

He growled low in his throat, palpable frustration coursing through his entire being. As he glared at Paulina’s phone, he found himself wanting to destroy it; to fill it with burning, choking ecto-energy until it melted into the grooves of his palm. Erased. 

Instead, he steadied himself with a breath and placed it softly on the mattress beside him, giving it a little pat for good measure. He refused to give into the pull of destruction, something that would come so easily with his ghostly form.

He knew what came of it, knew who came of it, and he never wanted to see that reality again.

The three were looking at him in slack-jawed shock, Kwan being the first to break the quiet, “Well, that was horrifying.”

“What?” Danny asked, oblivious as always.

Paulina gestured vaguely at the empty air, “I mean, I know you’re Phantom, but I don’t know you’re _Phantom_. You know?”

Danny squinted at her, “No.” 

Kwan nodded, “I get you, Paulina.” He shifted, “Anywho, what’d she say?”

He sighed, rubbing a tired and bandaged hand over his face, “She wants me to hand myself over next week or they’re dead.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. “Standard blackmail procedure.”

“Right,” Kwan drawled. “Standard.”

“If that’s the case, what do you need us to do?” Paulina leaned forward, fixing him with an impenetrable gaze. 

Danny shook his head quickly, dropping the blanket from his shoulders as he made to get up. “No, I couldn’t ask you to. This is my mess and you’ll only get hurt if you—”

Dash pushed past the other two gently, crossing his arms over his broad chest, “We’re not asking,” His cold blue eyes practically speared Danny with their intensity. “So, Danny, what’s the plan?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everybody! What'd you think??
> 
> I, personally, am too tired to think @_@
> 
> Stay awesome!
> 
> ~ASL


	15. Caffeine, Please

When Kwan woke up the next morning, to say he was confused wouldn’t be doing it justice; the jock was flabbergasted, baffled, and absolutely bamboozled. 

He could think of a few more synonyms, but those would do for now. 

The initial source of his confusion wasn’t Dash lying on the floor beside him, legs sprawled out and arms wrapped around a pillow. That was a usual sight.

No, it was the Latina lying to his left, mouth wide open and usually immaculate makeup smudged. 

The fledgling journalist simply shrugged and sat up, slowly stretching out his aching muscles.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of the head of black hair poking out from beneath Dash’s sheets that it came back to him. Phantom. Scary lady. Right. 

He groaned and rubbed at his tired eyes; it was way too early to be alive.

Kwan was just slipping back into the realm of dreams when a knock on the door startled him back to wakefulness. Argh.

Muttering some choice words under his breath he stumbled toward the door, seizing the handle and poking his head out, grimacing at the sudden light filling his vision.

Mrs. Baxter, her blonde hair drawn into a tight bun, lowered her hand from the door with a smile, “Good morning, Kwan.” She laughed softly at his annoyed expression. “Or should I say afternoon?”

He grunted, turning around to glare at Dash’s digital clock. Sure enough, it was indeed the afternoon. Twelve o’ one, to be exact.

The tired teen turned back towards the woman with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, Mrs. Baxter.” He floundered for an excuse before lamely settling on, “You know how hard it is for Dash to get to sleep.”

Her smile drooped at the corners as she straightened the pearls at her neck, “Yes, I’m glad you’re always there for him. He couldn’t have found a better a friend.”

Kwan nodded, “True, that.”

She chuckled softly, her perfectly straight white teeth catching the light. “Well, there’s cold cereal downstairs and you know where the bowls are. I hate to run out like this, especially when there’s a guest—”

Multiple guests, actually. Kwan wisely decided to keep that little tidbit to himself, “Don’t worry about it.” He gestured at their surroundings with a lazy hand wave, “Your house is basically my second home.”

Her smile sprang back into place as she reached over to affectionately rumple his behead, “Charlie’s at work and I have a benefits lunch, but maybe we’ll see you when we get back?”

Though he grinned and nodded at the prospect, Kwan knew that it wouldn’t be happening. Mr. and Mrs. Baxter would be gone long into the night. Again. 

Ever since he could remember they were always coming and going; never staying at the house for long. Dash hadn’t exactly been neglected--they loved him too much for it to be neglect--but they also weren’t very…present, in their son’s life.

He waved a goodbye, waiting until the clack of her high heels on the hardwood was no longer audible before closing the door. 

Turning back to the rooms snoozing occupants, he squatted next to Dash after deciding that Danny probably needed all the sleep he could get. 

His best friend had always slept like a friggin’ male model, blond hair resting on flawless skin and dark lashes gracing pale cheeks. 

Even after getting diagnosed with insomnia the guy looked like a Greek statue; effortlessly flawless. 

It annoyed the heck out of Kwan, which is why he found himself lightly slapping his best friend in the face. More of a love tap, really, but it was still effective. 

Dash’s eyes fluttered open as he sat up, daintily stretching like a slumbering princess finally awakened from her cursed nap. 

Kwan resisted the urge to slap him again.

“Hey, Kwan.” Dash muttered around his yawn, his rank morning breath killing a few of his friend’s brain cells. At least the guy had one physical flaw.

“Morning, stinky. I’ll leave the waking of Paulina to you.” 

The blond looked extremely confused until he caught sight of the Latina, curled up on some spare blankets.

“Right,” The blond cursed, turning to glare at the black-haired lump in his bed that was Danny. “I forgot.”

While Dash attempted to wake Paulina, Kwan moved towards the Fenton, eyes never leaving the mound of blankets. Gently pulling them back from the boy’s face, he studied his features critically.

Thick brows, pale skin, sharp nose, a barely visible dusting of freckles…there was no doubt about it.

Danny Fenton was definitely Phantom.

Kwan cleared his throat, hoping that would be enough to wake the slumbering ghost boy. 

Had tucker and Sam been there, they would have been able to tell him that their friend literally slept like the dead. However, they were not. 

He didn’t want to just, touch him. This was Phantom, the town hero, one of his real-life idols! There was no way he was going to slap him awake like he had Dash.

The jock probably would have stood there all day, playing out the different sides of his dilemma, if it hadn’t been for the sudden rumbling of his stomach. 

The thought of breakfast drove him to act, giving his hands a mind of their own as he gently shook Danny awake. 

It quickly became apparent that his hesitance had been for nothing. As soon as his hands touched the sleeping boy’s shoulders, there was a blur of motion and a stinging pain in his abdomen.

Kwan landed on Dash’s makeshift floor-bed with a heavy thud, his hands clutching at his stomach as he heaved for breath.

Through the moisture blurring his eyes, spurred on more by the unexpectedness of the blow than from any actual pain, he saw Danny glaring at him. 

The ghost boy’s eyes weren’t glowing green, nor his hair snow-white, but the stifling aura of power rolling off him was enough to make Kwan scoot backwards across the floor.

He could hardly believe that that was his classmate standing above him; why had they never seen this side of him before?

Just as he was considering begging for forgiveness, Danny suddenly sagged, his defensive posture leaking out of him. His eyes cleared and he was Fenton again, looking down in absolute horror at the teen he’d just decked. 

“Oh my goodness!” He squawked, his voice an octave higher than it usually was as he limped across the floor towards the prone jock. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve warned you about waking me up last night.

Kwan waved his hand dismissively, ignoring the slight pain the motion caused him. “It’s totally fine, I should’ve known better than to shake you like a maraca.”

Dash popped into his line of sight, getting up in Danny’s personal space with a raised fist. “What the heck was that, Fenton? You almost took out my best friend.”

Kwan rolled his eyes at his theatrics, “I’m fine, Dash. He just took me by surprise.” 

“Sorry,” Danny whispered softly, guilt in his blue eyes as he stared at the spot Kwan was still cradling. 

“Seriously guys, I’m okay. No harm no foul, or whatever.”

The ghost boy stretched out his hand towards him only to have Dash slap it away, “Don’t you dare touch him!”

“Geez, Dash. He’s just trying to help,” Paulina spoke up from the behind them. 

Danny jumped a little at her voice, then looked embarrassed for doing so. “She’s right. I can numb it, if you want.” He closed his fist, “But only if you’re comfortable with that.”

“No,” Dash muttered darkly, his icy eyes shooting daggers at the Fenton.

“Sure, if it’s not too much to ask.” Kwan answered at the same time, elbowing his friend in the stomach.

Danny nodded, leaning close enough that he could lift the edge of the injured boy’s rumpled shirt, “It might be a little cold at first.”

When he placed his hand on Kwan’s stomach the jock couldn’t withhold his grunt of surprise. The kid’s skin was freezing, and he hadn’t even powered up yet.

The ghost boy scrunched his nose in concentration, his eyes glowing a faint blue.

For split second it felt as though his whole stomach was on fire, so cold that it burned. But then the feeling faded, leaving a numbing sensation where the other’s fingers had touched. 

“How does it feel?” He asked Kwan hesitantly, quickly withdrawing his hand as if Kwan were toxic.

Or maybe thought he himself was toxic. 

Kwan hopped up to his feet, noting that he didn’t feel any pain. He touched the spot, curious to see if there would a be layer of frost, but found his skin simply a little cool to the touch. 

Danny sagged with relief, a small smile splitting his face, “That’s a relief. I’ve never really tried that before on people who weren’t, well, me.” 

“Wait, seriously?” Kwan fixed him with an incredulous stare, “You mean you’ve never used that on anyone?”

The ghost boy shifted uncomfortably under the jock’s gaze, his hand snaking up to rub at the back of his neck, “No. Sorry, I should’ve double chec—"

There were practically stars in Kwan’s eyes as he interrupted, “So cool, you’re telling me I just got punched by Phantom and he used a new power on me?”

Dash scoffed, though there were the beginnings of a small smile on his face, “You absolute dork.”

Danny looked like he wanted to turn invisible, which, Kwan supposed, was actually something the boy could do. “It’s not really new, per say.” He got up to his feet, giving the black-haired jock a concerned once over, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kwan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes for a second time and simply nodded.

The ghost boy sent gave him a forced smile, his face pale, “That’s good. Um, not to be rude, but I’m going to fall.” 

And fall he did, crumpling to the floor like a marionette with cut strings. Dash, a fraction of a second faster than Kwan, grabbed him before he could make contact with the hard wood.

The blond looped his arms under Danny’s own and held him up, scowling at him. He looked annoyed, hostile even, but Kwan could see the complicated layers of concern concealed in his features.

Kwan was of the opinion that Dash, much like _Shrek_ , was an onion. 

“Open my closet, the crutches from my injury last season should be in there. Might have to adjust them a bit for…for Danny.” The blonde’s tongue seemed to hesitate over the name, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. 

Kwan found the crutches and silently passed one to Paulina for her to adjust while he did the other, deciding not to speak after seeing the wrathful look on her face.

The Latina was an absolute monster in the morning if she hadn’t consumed caffeine, to such an extent that the other A-Listers had begun to bring coffee to school for her, like sacrifices to some vengeful pagan god. 

“Come on,” Danny protested weakly from his place on the bed. “I don’t need crutches. Besides,” He crossed his arms over his bandaged chest. “They’ll make people wonder what happened.”

“You’re literally the clumsiest person in the whole school,” Kwan chuckled, passing him the newly sized crutch. “Consider it payback for punching me in the stomach.”

The ghost boy sighed his acceptance, placing the metal contraption under his arm and watching Paulina position the other, “I guess if you put it that way.”

Once they’d all taken a trip to the upstairs bathroom and found Danny some non-singed clothes to wear over his bandages, the four teens headed downstairs. 

Dash deposited Danny at the bottom of the treacherous steps with a grunt, Kwan in tow with the crutches. “You need to eat more.” The blond muttered, moving into the kitchen without a backwards glance.

Kwan grinned at Dash’s back, knowing that’s all the concern he was going to express for the remainder of the day.

With the injured teen safety seated on one of the bar stools, crutches within reach, they sat down for some breakfast.

“Vict%r, Lucky Ch@rms, or Fro$ted Flakes?” Dash asked, plopping the bowls and boxes down on the counter.

Paulina ignored the cereal and instead stumbled over to Dash’s coffee machine, croaking out a barely audible, “Caffeine.”

Kwan’s grin grew to Cheshire-like proportions when he saw Dash gently push the zombified Latina back towards her seat before turning on the machine himself, readying a brilliant pink mug.

On his right, Danny poured himself a mountain of cereal and began to devour it in massive bites. Kwan watched the boy shovel the food into his mouth with raised brows, absently wondering if his ghost half used up a lot of energy.

That would certainly explain where the calories were going, cause they definitely weren’t ending up as fat.

When they were all seated, Paulina much perkier now that she was on her second cup of coffee, Kwan swallowed down his mouthful and phrased the question on everyone’s minds, “What do we do now?”

After last night’s drama, they’d simply decided to call it a night instead of planning, deciding that their brains would be a bit more productive after some sleep.

Danny pushed his now empty bowl to the side and crossed his arms, studying the marble countertop with a frown. “She wants me to hand myself over to her by next Friday night—”

“Which we’re definitely not doing,” Paulina interjected, cradling the mug like it was her first-born child. “So get that idea out of your head.”

To Kwan’s surprise Danny nodded in agreement, “If I surrender there’s no guarantee she’ll let them both go. She doesn’t seem like the most…stable person. More likely than not she’d keep them as a way to make me complacent.”

The Latina breathed a sigh of relief, “I thought you were going to pull a ‘hero’ and sacrifice yourself for the greater good or something.”

Danny held a hand to his heart as if mortally offended by her comment, “Me? Self sacrificing?”

Kwan watched the two smile at each other in mild confusion. Since when where they on such friendly terms? 

It’s not like he was complaining, her not trying to tear him apart was a welcome change, but it was still odd to see Paulina playing nice with someone who wasn’t Dash or himself. 

Deciding that was an issue for another time, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the kitchen’s occupants, “So how do you usually go about…” 

How was he supposed to phrase it? ‘Beating the bad guy’ and ‘saving the world’ didn’t seem to do it justice.

Danny sat up, absently rubbing as the gauze covering his arm, “Our first order of operations would be to find out where she is.”

“Amity,” Paulina supplied immediately, a thoughtful expression on her face. “The area code was the same as ours.”

“Okay, that means—” 

Dash cut Danny off, waving his spoon at him and dripping milk on the counter in the process, “Doesn’t this seem too easy to any of you? I mean, she lays all her cards on the table, lets us see her area code when she could’ve easily hidden it, and gives us over a week to prepare.” He shrugged, “Just seems fishy.”

“What’s fishy is that you just used the word’ fishy’ with a straight face,” Paulina remarked with a half smile. “But you do have a point.”

Danny nodded slowly, looking extremely tired despite it only being early afternoon, “It’s most definitely a trap, but at least if we act beforehand she won’t know when to expect us."

Dash nodded, looking satisfied by the answer.

“The sooner the better, right?” Kwan spoke around another bite of cereal, “The quicker we find out where she’s keeping them the less time she has to plan.”

“To start, we have to dig up some info on her, find out what her motivation is.” He rolled his eyes, “Never thought I’d miss dealing with monologuing ghosts.”

Paulina inhaled another sip of coffee, her eyebrows drawn into a grim line, “How do you usually find stuff like that out?”

Danny’s expression darkened, his grip on the countertop tightening. “Tucker usually works some technologic magic.”

The air seemed to stale as the room’s three other occupants cast around for something to say, all of them coming up short.

Kwan could hardly believe that Tucker TF for ‘Too Fine’ Foley had been one of the primary individual’s keeping the streets of Amity safe. And to think he’d bullied the guy in grade school, heck, even last year…

He sighed, straightening his back as he silently promised himself that, when they rescued Tucker (when, not if. He refused to think if), he’d apologize as soon as humanly possible.

Standing up, he moved over to the sink and placed his bowl in it, rinsing it out carefully before turning back to the bar, “Well, I don’t have your best friend’s aptitude for tech, but I might have the next best thing.”

“What?” Paulina and Danny asked in unison, their eyes wide.

Kwan smirked at them at them, “Amity Park Public Library.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, I love Kwan so much. I don't know why, but I just LOVE writing him *happy sigh*
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading!! If you have any questions, comments, or tidbits of advice, I'll reply as soon as I can :)
> 
> Stay safe, y'all!
> 
> ~ASL


	16. Ticking

…oooOOO-DASH-OOOooo…

“Remind me again why we’re going to the library on a perfectly fine Saturday afternoon?” Dash asked as the four of them stared up at the brown brick building, getting odd looks from passing pedestrians. 

Kwan just chuckled, an excited and concerning light in his eyes. “Follow me.”

The inside of the library was tranquil; the only sound being hushed whispers and flipping pages.

Dash, despite his lifelong goal to never step foot in a library, found himself instantly relaxing in the peaceful ambience. 

Without hesitating Kwan marched straight up to the front desk, his three companions trailing hesitantly behind. A girl, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, stood behind it, her honey blonde hair pulled into a high pony-tail and horn-rimmed glasses hanging delicately on the tip of her nose.

“Marcy, my dear, how you been?” Kwan said brightly, a goofy grin splitting his features.

The girl raised an amused eyebrow at his elbow, which he’d placed on the counter. “Not too bad, Kwan. Haven’t seen you around in awhile? Finally run out of romance novels?”

Dash barked a laugh, “You told me you stopped reading them last year after the Cowboy Hunk fiasco.”

The Asian American shot him a dark glare, “And I thought we promised not to talk about that.”

Danny, hobbling over on his crutches, looked confused but the Latina on his left was grinning. She’d heard all about it from Dash.

“Anyway,” Kwan shooed away the empty air by his head dismissively, “We need access to the archive room, do you think you can unlock it for us?”

“I thought this was a public library,” Danny inquired from the back. “Why would the room be locked?”

“Stupid teenagers, that’s why,” Marcy yanked a drawer open from behind the counter and pulled out a keychain. “They thought it was absolutely hilarious to use the archive papers as a fire starter in the library trash can. Our manager was not half as amused as they were.”

“That sucks.” 

She stepped out from behind the counter, beckoning for them to follow her to one of the doors labelled ‘staff only’. “We’re technically supposed to keep it locked, but Kwan gets special benefits.” She winked at the teen over her shoulder.

Dash grinned at the flush that spread across Kwan’s cheeks, elbowing his friend and muttering, “Friends with benefits?”

Kwan had been crushing on this library chick since he’d first come in three years ago and their relationship as of now was…undetermined.

“Here you are,” The girl turned on the lights and gestured for them to enter. “If you need anything else, I’ll be at the front desk.”

“Thanks Mace,” Kwan said just as the door closed with a clack. 

“She’s never going to go for you, man. Might as well give up while you’ve got some dignity left.” Dash batted his eyes at his best friend, “Unless you’ve already—”

“Aaaand here we are,” Kwan spoke over him, spreading his arms to encompass the ceiling high shelves of cardboard boxes and rusted filing cabinets. “The archive room, a journalist’s first love.”

“Last, too.” Dash got a smack in the head for that comment.

Danny sagged against one of the shelving units, bracing his weight against it, “I still don’t really get what we’re doing here, no offense.”

“None taken,” Kwan dodged one of Dash’s fists and kicked the jock in the shin. “I welcome any and all questions.”

“Can’t we just find news articles online? I don’t see why we need all—” The raven-haired teen gestured at the room’s contents. “This.”

“True, you’ll find recent events and major articles covered in the online version of the Amity Gazette, but what we need is probably older. Birth announcements, school events, little things like that from before revolutionized media.” Kwan freed himself from Dash’s grip and hid behind Paulina, “So, should we split up _Scooby Doo_ style?”

“How about me and Paulie—” Dash started, hoping to have a private talk with the girl. Preferably about Danny’s most recent little revelation. 

At the same time the Latina spoke an energetic, “How about me and Danny take the back? That way I can keep on eye on his ankle.” 

“Alrighty then, guess it’s me and Dash taking front.” Kwan gave his friend a shrug, “We’re looking for any mention of a Katherine Idolon or the Idolon family name in any and all contexts, clear?”

“Got it,” Danny saluted sloppily with his good arm before putting it back on the crutch and wobbling after Paulina.

Dash shook his head in disbelief that that was his idol for the past year and a half. Unbelievable. How could Phantom be such a…such a dork?

“I know, right.” Kwan lowered his voice, sounding bemused as he began to pull out the first box. “I still can’t really see it.”

The blond grabbed the second box and sat cross legged on the floor, crushing the laminated papers a little harder than necessary. “It’s just…all this time—” He growled, not even bothering to finish his sentiment.

Kwan, used to his friend’s inarticulacy, simply smiled before joining him on the library tiles, “Let’s just start with this, hm? Once we’ve found Sam and Foley, we can ask all the questions we want.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

That prompted a genuine laugh out of Dash, “Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

“I’m a raging insomniac, remember?” Kwan rolled his eyes. “I don’t sleep at night.”

Feeling much more settled now—Kwan had always had the uncanny ability to put him at ease—Dash resumed sifting through his segment of papers. All he saw were births, deaths, and the odd kind act. Nothing mentioning a Katherine Idolon. 

From the annoyed huffs emanating from Kwan he wasn’t having any better luck, despite the neat stack of already searched papers beside him steadily growing.

Twenty minutes later, Dash was getting ready to quit when a small sound began to tickle his ear. He glanced over at his friend, curious to see if he heard it too, but saw him still reading, thoroughly engrossed in whatever old-time article he’d stumbled upon.

It sounded like a malicious, half-baked lobster was sitting in the archive room, snapping its little pincer things together repeatedly. Or something. Maybe.  


So sue him; Dash wasn’t the best with metaphors. Or similes. Whatever.

Slowly getting to his feet, he quietly followed the sound to the end of the row he and Kwan had been perusing, the clicking steadily getting louder. 

Pausing when he seemed to be right on top of it, he realized that it actually sounded more like a ticking clock, as if someone had dropped a watch into one of the bins. 

He pulled it out and set it on the floor, only to have the ticking immediately cease when the box touched tile. Curiosity now piqued, he yanked the lid off and began to rifle through the contents, disappointed when it was only more papers and random news articles. 

What had happened to the clock?

Frowning, he sat back on his ankles and glared at the newspapers and documents, absently noting that they were more recent then the ones he’d been looking at.  


Just as he was considering putting the box back, the ticking sounded up again, quicker than before as if it were impatient.

“What?” Dash growled at the archive bin angrily. _What the heck was its problem?_

“You good, Dash?” Kwan’s voice sounded from behind him, eyebrows arched concerningly.

Dash whipped around with an angry expression glued to his features, “This box keeps ticking at me!”

Kwan blinked once before deciding that insanity must be another one of his friend’s special quirks, “Whatever you say, man.”

“Argh.” The blond turned back to the box, “What do you want?” He whispered at it, now understanding why those other kids had set fire to the papers; he was rather tempted to torch the entire library in an act of revenge.

The ticking, as if actually listening to him, sped up even more, like an angry parent tapping their foot.

Full of it, Dash began to rifle through again in search of the source, desperately shoving papers aside until he reached the bottom. The ticking stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

He swore, convinced he was losing his mind, until he read the headline of the news article his hand was now resting on. 

_Amity’s Own Genetic Researchers Dead: Phantom to Blame?_

The line sparked a half-forgotten memory in the back of his mind. He vaguely remembered Lancer mentioning something about a loss during a class a year back, something to do with science-y mumbo jumbo.

He pulled the article closer until he was almost nose-to-paper with it, running a quick hand through his hair before continuing,

_Yesterday, November 20th, 20XX, Amity—_

Dash paused; he knew that date. Thinking on it harder than he’d ever thought about anything in his life, nothing came to him. Grunting in annoyance, he resumed reading,

_Yesterday, November 20th, 20XX, Amity Park lost two of its best and leading researchers in their field. Idolon Ladouceur, 26, and Katherine Ladouceur, 24, collided with an oncoming car whose driver was under ghostly influence._

_‘Danny Phantom’, also known as ‘Inviso-Bill’, and a group of ghosts were seen leaving the jewelry store on Spectre Street and Current Avenue, possessing multiple people during their escape._

_The police and resident ghost hunters were unable to apprehend them, meaning they escaped with the precious stones in hand. If anyone has information concerning the entities’ location, please call our toll-free emergency hotline._

_The younger Ladouceur was killed on impact and her sister is now in critical condition. Both were exploring how changing targeted strands of human DNA and isolating them could eliminate the potential for lifelong or terminal illnesses._

_In an interview with the two last Wednesday, they revealed that they had been approached by a classified corporate entity willing to sponsor them for paranormal research. It is unclear at this time what exactly this was to pertain to, or if it had anything to do with their acci—_

Deciding that he’d read enough, Dash called Kwan over and stuffed the newspaper into his friend’s face, “Found something, didn’t understand half the words in it though.”

Kwan scanned the headline, his eyes widening at what he read. “You’re just stupid,” He gave a him a light shove that let Dash know he was joking. “Go tell Danny and Paulina; I know you’re dying to see her.”

“Shut up,” Dash grunted, turning away so Kwan couldn’t see the dark flush his comment had caused. “Just read the darn article.”

He maneuvered his way between the shelves, muttering some choice words about Kwan under his breathe as he headed to the back of the archive room.

“…still hurt?” That was Paulina’s voice, her soft tone bringing an unconscious smile to his lips.

“I have a pretty fast healing factor, so it’s not too bad now.” There was a ruffling of cloth, as if Danny were showing her something. “See? Almost gone.”

“Wow.”

Dash decided that now was as good a time as any to make his appearance. He stepped out from behind a rusty filing cabinet, his voice louder than he’d been anticipating in the gentle silence, “I found something.”

“Jeez!” Paulina snapped, chucking a loose paper at him while Danny temporarily blinked out of visibility, quickly reappearing with a hand over his heart.

Dash watched the piece of paper she’d tossed at him float harmlessly to the ground, four feet away. “Careful,” He deadpanned. “You could’ve given me a papercut.”

Fenton, looking like an old man going into cardiac arrest, leaned heavily against his crutch, “Don’t do that. I almost phased through the floor. Again.”

The Latina glanced at him curiously, mouth open as if she was about to ask what he meant, but Dash quickly spoke before she could,

“I found an article that you guys are going to want to see,” He hesitantly nodded in Danny’s direction, still reluctant to meet the boy’s eyes. “Especially you.”

The half-smile on the other boy’s face faded, replaced with a look of grim determination. Now that he was thinking to compare them, Dash could see Phantom in it; the same flat set of the mouth and brows.

The jock ignored the goosebumps trailing down his spine, every time he’d shoved the scrawny kid into a locker or slammed him against a wall flashing through his mind.  


His hands clenched as he wondered—not for the last time—how on earth he wasn’t an ecto-spot on Casper High’s tiles. Why hadn’t Danny done anything? Why had he just taken it??

“Why didn’t you—” He cut himself off, quickly deciding that now wasn’t the time to hash this out. “Never mind, follow me.”

And so the two did, Danny’s crutch clacking against the floor as he limped beside Paulina, completely unaware that everything was about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an obscene amount of love for my idiot A-Listers <333 (also I'm sure you can all guess what timekeeper was behind that little hint for Dash ;P )
> 
> Sorry this chapter's a little shorter, life kinda hit the fan :/ I hope you enjoyed it all the same!!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!! If you have any questions or thoughts you'd like to share, I'll get back to you ASAP :D
> 
> Stay safe!!
> 
> ~ASL


	17. Awaited Conversations

Danny was tired. 

Honestly, he just wanted to curl up on his bed with a mug of coffee and _sleep_. Every part of him was aching, from his injured ankle to his head, and every time Paulina spoke he wanted to strangle her.

It wasn’t personal; the halfa really had forgiven the Latina, but his forgiveness didn’t mean he suddenly wanted to spend an entire day with her.

Especially when he was tired. And in desperate need of caffeine. 

He wasn’t sure what to do now. With three rookie A-Listers who previously bullied him and had little to no experience with ghost fighting, Danny was really missing the twosome of his trio.

Sam would know exactly what to do in this situation; she’d place her hand on his shoulder, paying no heed to Tucker’s suggestive snickers, and everything would suddenly be fine.

The same could be said for the techno-geek; he would’ve whipped out some conveniently linked article that provided exactly the connection they were looking for, quipping about it the whole time.

Unfortunately they weren’t here, so he’d have to make do with what he had. 

Steeling himself, he hobbled after Dash’s towering form with Paulina hovering at his side, her arms ready to steady him if his legs suddenly gave out.

That was another thing, Sam and Tucker understood his ghost powers. They had firsthand experience with his healing abilities whereas the Latina, though she was really trying to be considerate, did not.

Danny supressed a groan, knowing it would only worry the girl even more, and continued forward. 

When they came around the final row of shelves, Kwan came into view, his large form hunkered over a filing bin. A newspaper lay dissected on the floor around him, each page face up.

“Find anything else?” Dash asked the other jock, kneeling next to him on the carpeted floor.

Kwan grunted noncommittally, not indicating if the sound was meant as affirmation to the question or otherwise. Without glancing up, he passed his blond friend the front page.

The youngest Fenton scrunched his eyes at his classmate, confused as to where this side of Kwan was coming from; he’d never known the jock to be particularly engaged in any classroom activity, let alone an extracurricular one. 

Reminding himself of the situation at hand, he carefully folded himself onto the carpet and gently laid the crutch to rest. “What is it?”

Dash grudgingly passed it over, being extra careful not to touch the other boy’s hands.

Danny had to withhold another groan, it’s not like he was going to hurt the guy. Dash had been tiptoeing passive aggressively (was that even possible??) around him since last night.

Sure, he kind of had good reason to; but Danny was still Danny.

Bringing the paper closer to his face—the small font instantly agitating his surging headache—he began to read,

" _Yesterday, November 20th, 20XX, Amity Park lost two of its best and leading researchers in their field. Idolon Ladouceur, 26, and Katherine Ladouceur, 24, collided with an oncoming car whose driver was under ghostly influence…_ ” He trailed off, already knowing where this was going. “Oh.”

“Oh what?” Paulina snatched it out of his hand, her eyes slowly dragging across the page where he’d stopped. After a moment she looked up in confusion, “I don’t see what this has to do with Katherine Idolon. I mean, neither of these women are—”

Kwan cleared his throat and looked up, speaking to her with surprising patience, “If you read the first part again, you’ll see that the older sister’s first name and the younger sister’s last name, put together, make the name of our suspect.”

The Latina’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as she carefully examined the paper again, “So one of the sisters is our mysterious caller.”

“That is my current theory, yes.” Kwan gently took the newspaper back. His eyes held an uncharacteristic caution when he turned them on Danny, “It says here that Phantom is related to the incident somehow, do you remember what happened?”

The halfa nodded slowly, turning his blue gaze back to the paper. He definitely still remembered Freakshow. That was why most of Amity had been against him at one point, their hate for anything ecto reaching an all time high.

“You guys remember Circus Gothica?” He asked softly, still not meeting their gaze. “Came through town freshman year?”

Paulina and Dash gave him blank stares but Kwan, bless his soul, nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, I covered an article for Macy about the parent protest.”

An article? Since when was Kwan involved with—Danny sucked in a breath through his nose, centering himself again. Now was not the time for personal questions.

“Right, that one.” He pushed his shoulders back and met their gazes head on, “The ringleader had a bad case of ghost envy, which is not so good for humans in the long run. Freakshow, that was his name, found an old relic that could control ghosts.”

“I’ve never heard this before,” Paulina muttered, eyes flashing with fascination. “And I’ve been a fan of you for _years_.”

That…he was going to take awhile getting used to. Danny wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it, actually. For the Latina to go so quickly from flagrant hate to adoration—it was confusing, to say the least.

Clearing his throat, he nodded quickly in acknowledgement before moving on, “Well he had this staff, made me do some less than legal stuff. Then there was the whole Reality Gauntlet thing, but that wasn’t until later.”

I robbed a store, took some jewels and stuff. But,” He recalled Sam’s words after the incident; Jazz’s near constant reassurances. “It wasn’t my fault, there was nothing I could do.”  


Kwan smiled at him, “Well, duh. If you were being brainwashed, of course there wasn’t much you could do.”

“I always knew Phantom—er, you, weren’t behind the theft. There had to be more to the story,” Paulina clenched her fist tightly, “I have to tell the Phanclub.”

Dash, as he had since the reveal last night, remained silent. 

Though Danny hadn’t been searching for validation (he really did know it wasn’t his fault, but sometimes knowing something and believing it were two very different things), hearing their words brought a hesitant smile to his face.

“You can’t tell your Phanclub, Paulina. They’ll wonder where you heard.”

“Well, why don’t you write an expose piece on it? Inform the people and all that.”

“Like I said, I’d need a source besides Danny—”

“Alright, guys.” The halfa squashed his smile, gesturing at the newspaper again. “Kidnapping, remember?”

The two flushed.

“Right,” Kwan gestured to the date on the front page. “And you’re sure this is the same date you got mind controlled?”

Danny nodded; he was sure of it. 

“Okay, then do you remember these two?” The jock pointed at the grainy image of a wrecked car. “It says here you played a part in their accident.”

“No,” He frowned, the eery recollection of that red haze making him shudder. “I don’t remember anything from when I was under his control. It’s all just…blurry.”

“Hmm, that’s a bit of a set back.” Kwan scratched at his chin, “Nothing we can’t make work, though. Alright, so which lady do you think it is?”

“The other one’s dead,” Dash chimed from the back, breaking his unofficial vow of silence.

“You can’t excuse dead people in Amity.” Danny shook his head, turning towards the blond. “I mean, look who you’re talkin’ to—”

He abruptly cut himself off when his gaze met the other boy’s, the jock’s blue eyes burrowing into his very being. 

An odd hate festered in their depths, goosebumps rising on Danny’s arms at the burning power of it. He couldn’t tell who it was directed at, but it was volatile. 

Pointedly ignoring the looks the archive room’s two other occupants exchanged, Danny cleared his throat and turned back to the newspaper. “Uh, never mind. What do you think, Kwan?”

“I think that’s all we’re going to get out of here.” He stood up, long, muscled legs unfolding gracefully beneath him. “Somebody shove the newspaper down their pants and we’ll head out.”

“Isn’t that…illegal?” Paulina phrased, her brows cinched. “I thought we had to sign stuff out of a library?”

“You’re _technically_ not allowed to take stuff out of the archive room, but no one’ll miss this.” He passed the paper to Danny, “Here, nobody will suspect the crippled kid.”

“I’m not crippled,” The halfa muttered indignantly, passing it off to Paulina. “And I’m not stealing anything.”

“Wimps,” The Latina folded the newspaper into a neat square and pushed it into her back pocket. “It’s like you’ve never shoplifted before.”

Both boys stared at her departing back incredulously, eyes practically bugging out of their heads.

“Is she for real?” Danny muttered under his breath at the equally stunned jock.

Kwan shrugged, lifting the file box back into its place. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Once they’d successfully robbed the local library for the greater good, they made their way back to Baxter’s house. 

At first, it was extremely awkward walking alongside his three past bullies. Sure, Kwan hadn’t really been actively violent for the past year, but he still hadn’t done anything.

Danny knew that if Sam were here, she would’ve launched into a heated explanation of why by-standing was just as bad as bullying.

He quickly shook his head, silently chastising himself. Bad brain, no thinking of Sam right now. 

“You good there, Danny?” Kwan’s voice broke him out of his self pep-talk, “You’re falling behind.”

“Oh,” He hiked his crutch back under his arm and wobbled after them. “Sorry, just thinking.”

“It’s all good.” 

In another life, maybe one where the other two jocks hadn’t become such fast friends, Danny felt like he and Kwan could’ve been buds. Maybe not besties, like him and Tucker, but definitely some form of acquaintances.

They made small talk the rest of the way back to Dash’s, the blond and Latina leading the way up ahead. 

When they arrived at the Baxter’s literal mansion, Danny realized he had no idea if he was welcome back inside.

He loitered by the front gate, watching as Kwan confidently strode ahead. 

Technically, their weird little strategizing session was over for the day. Was he supposed to go back home now? Or did they want to talk further?

It was, in that moment, that Danny realized he’d literally had the same three friends since daycare. He had no idea what normal making-friend etiquette looked like. Was friend making even a thing anymore?

Did he even _want_ to be friends with these people?

“What’re you just standing there for?” Kwan’s voice echoed across the perfectly manicured lawn towards him. “Get in!”

Snapping out of his downwards spiral, Danny looked up just in time to see the Asian American slip into the back seat of a familiar red convertible. 

That was Dash’s favourite car. He was being invited into Dash’s favourite car.

What kind of Twilight Zone weirdness was this?

The passenger door window rolled down, revealing the Latina’s clueless smile, “We’re going to get some food before we dig any further! Aren’t you hungry?”

Danny’s treacherous stomach rumbled appreciatively at the thought, completely overriding his survival instincts. “Um, okay.”

He slowly made his way over to the car against his better judgement, pointedly ignoring where Dash sat in the driver’s seat. 

The side door popped open with a smooth click, revealing a spotless leather interior. 

Danny knew next to nothing about cars; but he figured this one was pretty fancy. Dash would purchase nothing less than overly expensive, after all.

He slid in, passing his crutch over to Kwan who rested it on the floor, and then they were off, the engine purring smoothly beneath them. 

…oooOOO-BREAK-OOOooo…

“Why don’t we just do Drive-Thru?” Danny asked for the second time as Dash passive aggressively spun the car into an empty spot. “Wouldn’t that be faster?”

There was a concerning gleam in the Latina’s eyes when she shook her head, stepping out of the vehicle with a flourish. “No can do. We have to keep the engine running.”

“Why?” He squeaked when Kwan got out too, shooting Danny a conspiratorial smile.

“Because,” The jock winked at him, gesturing at the grizzly bear— AKA Dash—in the front seat. “You two need to hash it out before one of you kills the other.”

And then he slammed the door shut, winking one more time before heading inside the Nasty Burger, Paulina right on his heels.

The halfa gulped, wondering if it was too late to fake a bathroom break. Or unconsciousness. Either was preferable in this situation. 

Unfortunately, Kwan and Paulina were right; he and Dash had to talk sometime. Danny just wished there was a way to do it without ending up dead.

“Sooo, Dash,” He unbuckled his seat belt and leaned against the back of the passenger seat, propping his chin up on the shoulder of it. “Anything you want to ask about?”

The blond slammed his fist into the centre counsel, snapping a pair of sunglasses that’d been harmlessly resting there. “You absolute _moron_.”

Danny flinched back at the unexpected show of violence, that same searing hate as before flickering in the jock’s eyes. “There’s, uh, no need for punching—”

“That’s just the problem!” Dash grabbed him by his shirt collar and yanked the hlfa forward, Danny’s body slamming against the front seat. “Why?”

He blinked once, then again, not understanding the bully’s question. “Why what?”

Dash jerked an arm back, readying it for a punch. 

Danny squeezed his eyes closed, quickly preparing himself for the pain that was sure to follow.

“That! That there is exactly what I’m talking about.” The blond let him go, tossing the ghost boy into the back seat. “Why do you do that?”

He touched down with a _thump_ , the air whooshing out of his lungs at the impact. Bruises and burns along his back sizzled to life again, pricks of pain reminding him of their presence. “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I was about to punch you in the face!” Dash seemed to deflate, the burning of his eyes dropping to a low simmer. “And you weren’t going to do anything.”

Danny… wasn’t entirely sure what to say to that. “What’d you expect me to do? Hit you back?”

“Yeah.” The jock grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, throttling it in his grip. “You’re _Danny_ frickin’ _Phantom_ , right?”

Beginning to see where Dash was going with this, the smaller boy shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” It was almost a whisper, barely audible despite the overwhelming silence around them. “Isn’t that what you do?”

The jock had lost him again. “Do what?”

“Stop the bad guy.” Dash wasn’t looking at him, focusing on his bone-white grip of the wheel.

Oh. How was Danny supposed to respond to that? 

“Look, Dash.” He breathed in deeply through his nose, trying to think of what Jazz would say in this moment. Pulling up a blank, he decided to channel some good old Danny Fenton™ advice. “You’re not a bad guy.”

The jock gave a dry snort, his head swiveling around to face the halfa. “Don’t give me that. I _know_ I’m the bad guy. Good people don’t go around punching other people, good people don’t—”

“Shut up, Dash.” Danny fixed him with a glare, allowing some of Phantom’s green glow to show in his eyes. It felt weird to do it in his human form, but felt that it was something Baxter needed to see.

“You’re not a bad guy. Honestly,” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “I don’t think there’s such thing as ‘bad guys’. I don’t even think there’s such thing as bad people.”

“That’s ridiculous, don’t give me that BS.” The blond scoffed, rolling his blue eyes, “I’ve seen you fight them; you’d be stupid not to think there’re bad people out there.”

“Would you just let me talk? For once?” Danny sighed, calming himself. “I forgot how inflated your ego can be sometimes. Yeah, I’ve fought some messed up people; some lonely people; some damaged people; but never _bad_ people. They just need help.” He shrugged, “And sometimes they need to receive that help behind bars where they can’t hurt others, or themselves.”

“Oh, so I’m not ‘bad’, I just have to go to jail.” Dash’s fingers darted for the door handle, wrapping tightly around it, “Thanks, Fenton, that’s exactly what I needed to hea—”

Without thinking it through, Danny shot a concentrated bolt of ice at the jock’s hand. It hit dead-on, stopping him from exiting the vehicle with a crystalizing whisper.

“You dweeb!” Dash tried to pull his hand away but couldn’t. It was completely frozen to the handle. “That’s _freezing_!”

“It’s _ice_ ,” Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And you need to hear what I have to say.”

Growling curses under his breath, Dash gave his hand a few more tugs. When nothing happened, he conceded defeat. “Fine. Talk fast; I need my throwing arm.”

“Like I said, I seriously don’t think there’re bad people out there. Which isn’t to say they should do what they do, because what they do is obviously not so great.” 

Wow. He was so articulate. Ignoring the slightly embarrassed flush colouring his cheeks at how juvenile his words sounded, he cleared his throat and tried again,

“I’m not justifying what you’ve done, because I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t horrible. You’ve made people hate going to school, you’ve made them _fear_ a place where they’re supposed to be able to feel safe. I know some of the ‘dweebs’ that you target don’t have great home lives, and school’s supposed to be a place they can go to get away from that. To rewind, sort of.”

Danny ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes as he reassembled his rambling thoughts. “I don’t know why you feel the need to hit people and throw them in lockers; frankly, I don’t care. You need help, man. If you can’t do it for the people you’re hurting, then at least do it for yourself.” He cast a pointed look at Paulina, who was barely visible through the Nasty Burger windows. “For your friends.”

Dash still wasn’t looking at him, but he wasn’t trying to pull his hand out of the ecto-ice either, “Why didn’t you ever stop me. One punch, and you could’ve been popular.” His blue eyes met Danny’s, brows hanging low over them, “And don’t tell me you didn’t want to be popular; I remember what you were like back in first year.”

Danny winced, recalling how he and Tucker had acted, the problems they’d caused because of their insecurities. “One misplaced, angry punch, and I could’ve killed you, Dash. If there was ever a day you were extra mean and I’d gotten used to retaliating…you could’ve seriously died.”

“If I had powers, though,” The hand that wasn’t encased in ice clenched in the jock’s lap. “I would’ve used them every chance I got.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been tempted before.” Danny let a small ball of ecto-energy pool above his hand, its acidic shade lighting up the car’s interior. “But I think if I ever started using it on you, I wouldn’t’ve been able to stop.” Sighing, he extinguished it, rubbing his palm on the thigh of his jeans to get rid of the tingling sensation. 

“I don’t know how to stop.” Dash raised his head, finally looking the other boy directly in the eye, “I think I had a reason for doing it, when I first started…hurting people. But now…” He shook his head. “I’m not even sure anymore.”

Aaand Danny had officially met his psychoanalyzing limit. “I get that you probably don’t care about anything that I have to say, but, once this is all over, you should really consider getting a councillor of some sort.” He sucked in a steadying breath through his nose, feeling it flutter in his stomach. “I would recommend Jazz, she, uh, helps me sometimes. With stuff. That I might be feeling.”

“Danny Phantom gets counselling?” The usual sneer was absent from Dash’s voice as he spoke, replaced by a foreign undertone. “I find that hard to believe.”

The atmosphere around them seemed to lighten, the cracks that’d been forming becoming a little less jagged. 

Relieved at the change, Danny snorted softly. “I think you’d be surprised at just how messed up Phantom can be.”

Dash turned as far as his frozen hand would allow, “Just so you know, thanks. For saving the town, and everything. And for not smiting me when I first stuffed you into a locker.”

If Danny didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn an embarrassed red was spreading across the jock’s cheeks. 

Hoping to draw the boy’s attention away from Dash’s own embarrassment, he puffed up his chest. “No problem, citizen. I’m not really in the smiting business, anyway. Didn’t have the best benefits package, and the taxes!” He draped himself against the seat dramatically. “Oh golly, the taxes.”

The blond shook his head disbelievingly, but his blue eyes were twinkling behind dark lashes. “And then you go and ruin the mood. I can’t believe my idol’s been such an idiot this whole time.”

The words weren’t biting like they usually were, something borderline warm beneath their phrasing.

However, now that they’re odd little exchange was over, Danny realized that he had no idea what to say. 

Thankfully, he was saved from having to suffer in awkward silence by a certain Latina.

She practically tore the door off its hinges, sliding into her seat and chucking a fast food bag at Dash. “We got the goods! Now drive, drive, _drive_!”

Kwan slid in beside Danny at a much calmer speed, gently placing his own paper package onto the centre console beside the bent sunglasses.

Danny arched a concerned eyebrow at him, “Did you rob the place?”

“No, one of her exes was behind the counter.” The raven-haired jock rolled his eyes, “She’s been ghosting him for months.”

“And for good reason, too.” Paulina pulled out a pack of fries, popping one into her mouth. “Why aren’t we driving yet? Andres could give chase any minute.”

“I’m stuck,” Dash casually gestured at the ice still freezing him in place.

The Latina choked while Kwan turned to Danny, mouth popping open,

“Dang. I didn’t think you’d actually freeze him.” He bumped fists with the stunned halfa. “Cool.”

Now that she wasn’t coughing up a lung, Paulina spun towards Danny, “How does it feel when you use ice? Is it weird? Does it hurt your hand? Did you transform?” She smacked Dash hard enough to leave a mark. “OMG, did he transform? Did you see him transform again?”

Danny haphazardly leaned over the driver seat, stretching his hand out until he could feel the jagged ice beneath his fingertips. 

His core hummed happily at the cold contact, but he ignored it, instead focusing a miniscule amount of ecto-energy at the freezing substance.

There was a flash of green and the scent of ozone mixed with copper, tanging in the air around them as the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck stood on end. 

The ice shattered, little chunks of it flying around the car’s interior.

The vehicle’s occupants were quite for a moment, their shock obvious even without Danny’s ghostly affinity for discerning human emotion. 

The three suddenly snapped into motion: Dash rubbing at his wrist, Kwan smacking Danny on the shoulder congratulatorily, and Paulina seizing one of the icy pieces.

“I’m going to keep this forever!” She proclaimed as Danny carefully maneuvered back into his seat again. 

The halfa didn’t have the heart to tell her it would eventually melt.

“So, I take it your little talk went well?” Kwan asked him, pulling a Nasty Burger combo meal out of the greasy bag. “No maiming?”

Danny caught Dash’s blue eyes studying him in the overhead mirror. They were slightly crinkled at the corners; not exactly a smile, but the beginnings of one.

The ghost boy ginned toothily, shaking his head quickly, “No maiming.”

The car rumbled to life underneath them and jolted forward, the blond jock’s gaze back on the road as if he hadn’t just been looking at him.

As Paulina passed Danny his meal, rambling on about her special little ice-chunk, the halfa’s advanced hearing barely made out Dash’s half-heartedly muttered, “You’re still a dweeb.”

The smell of fast food and salt and sweat mixing in his nose; off-beat pop music blaring in the background…almost made him forget what had really brought them together in the first place.

Smiling, he bopped his head along to the cheesy lyrics.

Maybe, just maybe, this new dynamic wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, chapter 17!! What'd you think of Dash and Danny's little conversation??
> 
> Thanks everyone for reading!! Comments give me life, if you have the time ;)
> 
> Have an awesome day!!
> 
> ~ASL


	18. Technogeek

…oooOOO-TUCKER-OOOooo…

When Tucker had first woken up, he briefly entertained the idea that he was dead. Or at least seriously broken. Like seriously seriously broken.

If this was the afterlife, he wanted a refund. Or at least his life back, ‘cause this sucked.

Ignoring the way his body was trying to drag him back into the fog of sleep, he eased his way up to a sitting position and tried to categorize the pain. 

His head hurt, for starters, but that felt minor. More like grogginess than any actual trauma. His neck was fine (thank goodness) and his chest was alright. 

He moved his arms slowly, rotating them left and then right. No major issues there, just a light soreness.

So at least Tucker wasn’t broken, even if he had just woken up in an entirely white room with no idea where he was and a killer headache. 

Tucker would say that he was surprised, but this was Amity Park. He’d be lying.

But then it him that he didn’t even _know_ if he was in Amity, which made his strained mind spiral all over again. 

Panic aside, his first order of business was clear; ask whoever was keeping him captive why they hadn’t given him a bed. His back was trying to start a revolution.

Second order of business, try and remember what had gotten him into this situation in the first place.

Thinking hurt his head, but he did it anyway, slowly sifting through the events of the past few days.

There’d been the crazy lady on the TV (Ido-what?), then the visit to Vlad, then…

The memory hit him straight in the face, making him choke on the air in his esophagus.

Mind controlled Vlad. Mind controlled ghosts. The explo—

Tucker sat up all the way with his eyes blown wide open, the chilling recollection of watching Danny get engulfed by fire making his gut clench. 

For a second, he almost wished he hadn’t remembered it. 

Was Danny even still alive? A blast like that likely wouldn’t have killed him, but what if—no, bad thoughts. Bad Tuck. Danny was an idiot, but he was also the strongest person Tucker knew. He was fine.

From what horrifying-ness he could decipher, at least Sam was safe. Though who knew what the crazy lady could be doing to her. 

Realizing he’d caught up on all his missed episodes of _The Tucker Foley Show_ , the techno-geek decided that he couldn’t put it off any longer.

With his lips pulled into a tight grimace, Tucker slowly eased his way to his feet.

In a futile attempt to distract himself from the pain, he examined his surroundings with narrowed eyes. The room—cell?—was small, containing only cold tile and fluorescent overhead lights that burned his eyes.

Upon closer inspection, he concluded that, indeed, he had no idea where he was. 

He suspected it was a GIW facility. After all, the room was white. What more evidence did a guy need?

But they had multiple facilities, multiple places of operation. He could be anywhere.

Just when he was about to lie back down (after all, if he was being held prisoner by an unknown and likely hostile force, he might as well catch up on some sleep), a steel door to his left slid open with a mechanical clank.

Whatever Tucker had been expecting, this was not it.

Technus stood there in all of his outdated glory, sporting a faded expression on his face, mouth still and eyes void as he floated into the room.

It was vaguely disturbing to see a usually so animated enemy brainwashed. Or whatever crazy lady did to make them do her bidding. 

Watching as the ghost stood frozen, suspended in time like a glitchy laptop, it was almost as if he’d been zombified.

 _Woah._

Tucker grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation, because _zombie ghosts_ was an awesome concept.

The brainwashed zombie ghost (awesome) set down the tray he was carrying. Only then was Tucker able to get a good look at its contents. 

Food. Technus had just brought him food. Which, based on his limited understanding of hostage situations, meant crazy lady wanted him alive. 

For now.

He would ask himself it this day could get any weirder, but such a thought would definitely end up getting him jinxed. And the last thing he needed right now was bad luck.

There was an apple, clear water bottle, and three carrots sticks arranged unceremoniously on the red-plastic tray. 

“What?” Tucker glared at the ghost, gesturing at the inedible food despite knowing he wouldn’t get an answer. “Am I a rabbit now? Did Sam put you up to this?”

As expected, Technus ignored him, gliding out of the room without a backwards glance. The door grinded to a close as soon as the ghost was gone.

“This is torture.” Tucker leaned back as far as he could from the rodent food on the tray, though he did take the water. His throat was dry as a very dry…thing.

However, after the first forty seconds of staring at the cell’s artistic rendition of an arctic hare riding a polar bear in a blizzard (that is to say, very white), Tucker made a decision,

“Guess I’m blowin’ this popsicle stand.” He walked over to the door, trying to recall the sound it had made when it slid open.

Had it been gears? Ghostly tech?

Either way, he’d be out of here in not time.

“’Sides,” He smiled to himself in the stillness. “Danny’ll be lost without me.”

…oooOOO-DANNY-OOOooo…

Danny was lost. Completely and utterly lost.

He had literally no idea where he was. 

He’d wandered out of Dash’s entertainment room where they’d been ‘planning’—more like staring at their stolen news article and throwing stale Doritos at each other—and now he was hopelessly trapped.

All the halfa had been searching for was the bathroom, but Dash’s house was a labyrinth and Paulina’s garbled instructions were failing him.

Had she said go left after the marble bust? Or straight after the grand piano? Did any of the Baxters even _play_ piano?

All were unanswerable questions. 

Danny was just debating whether he should sacrifice his dignity and call for help when he limped around yet another corner, finding himself in a narrow hallway.

Lining it on either side were dozens of family photos. 

Some were of smiling people he didn’t recognize, most blond and blue eyed, but a number depicted a single child. 

Despite the chubby cheeks and angel curls, which were now replaced by hard lines and slick-backed hair, Danny recognized them immediately.

Dash.

He’d been shoved into lockers enough by the guy to recognize his middle school self. 

Almost out of a morbid curiosity he continued on, using the wall to get his weight off his inured ankle. 

Gradually, young Dash got bigger, a small Kwan eventually joining the narrative somewhere around fifth grade.

Danny remembered when the Asian American had first stepped into the classroom, immediately catching Dash’s eye. 

For some reason, the two had hit it off right away. 

Danny could still recall the strange sense of confusion he’d felt at the blonde’s emotional one-eighty, followed by spiralling thoughts of _what did I do wrong?_ when Dash treated the new arrival like royalty.

Then Paulina joined their number, a picture of all three of them appearing towards the end of the hall. 

In it, Dash looked annoyed by their arms slung around his shoulders, but Danny now recognized the content half-smile plying at the jock’s lips.

Seeing the three of them like that—so, together—reminded him of his missing in action friends and worry reared its ugly head in the pit of his stomach, wrapping tight coils around his every thought. 

In an attempt to distract himself from the fiery need to jump into the air and zoom off to find them, he absently fingered the picture’s frame, ghosting the polished wood with pale tips.

Would he have become just as bitter and angry as Dash if Sam and Tuck hadn’t been in his life? If his family had been a little less present?

It was sobering to imagine a life void of Sam’s aggressive compassion, or Tuck’s strange combination of narcistic optimism. 

Even his family, despite their many flaws, really did try.

His parents were supportive in their own way, and Jazz was…Jazz. He wouldn’t ask for anything—or anyone—different. 

Sighing, he was about to turn around and concede his search, having had enough serious, existential thinking for one day, when a voice nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.

“Lonely, isn’t it?”

Danny recoiled, phasing halfway into the wall before he registered that it was only Paulina. Relaxing, marginally, he treated her to his finest glare, “You guys seem insistent on putting me in an early grave. Seriously, I’ve gotten more jump scares in the past two days then I have in my entire ghostly career.”

The Latina laughed, the sound significantly different than the one she used at school. Warmer, and more genuine, than the raucous tone it took on at Casper High.

“You’re welcome,” She straightened the photograph, crooked from Danny’s clumsy hands.

She either ignored or didn’t hear Danny’s answering, “That wasn’t a thank you”. 

“So,” Her brown curls bounced as she turned towards him again. “Enjoying your internalized monologue of self-doubt?”

His eyes widened. “I wasn’t—”

“Oh, please,” Paulina waved a dismissive hand in his general direction. “I know it when I see it.”

“Really?” He tried to keep the surprise out of his tone, but he never would’ve pegged her as the introspective type. 

Loud, bossy, and authoritative, maybe. Definitely not contemplative. 

To his surprise, Paulina gave a brisk nod, the smile slipping off her face. “I wasn’t always a self-absorbed witch, you know.” 

Danny recalled their preschool days and had to disagree, but for the sake of his livelihood he chose to keep that to himself.

She shrugged, her gaze hollowing as she fixed it on Dash’s picture. “It’s just easier. This way, I objectify myself before anyone else can. I’d rather write my own personality than have some stranger assign me one.”

He tried to imagine what such a life could possibly be like, finding himself unable to even comprehend it. Danny had always been on the outskirts; just a silent observer looking in.  


It used to feel condemning. Now, however…

“The next time Sam calls you shallow, I might have to fight her on it.”

The Latina barked another laugh, her previously dark mood slipping back to wherever it’d come. “She’d beat you up for sure.”

Danny opened his mouth to argue, but found himself unable to come up with a convincing one. 

Then Paulina leaned in, smirking as if she knew his deepest secrets. Which, given her aptitude for gossip, was entirely possible. “And if she didn’t, you’d let her win anyway.”

The halfa flushed scarlet, glancing around frantically even though he knew there wasn’t anyone around to overhear their conversation. 

He felt like Sam was going to materialize out of nowhere, ready to comment on his reddening ears with a snide smile.

“A little louder, will you? I don’t think the folks down in Somalia heard.” He whisper-shouted at her, trying to will his cheeks back to their normal pigment. 

“Oh, honey,” The Latina shook her head in mock sympathy. “The whole school already knows about your little crush. The teachers know. Most of the A-Listers have money riding on the fact that she’ll probably ask you out first.”

That was not helping with his embarrassed state at all.

He groaned, “Seriously?” Then the tail-end of her reveal hit him. “Wait, _you’re_ an A-Lister!” He tried to reach for her, but she wormed out of his grasp. “Who did you bet on? Tell me now—”

But the teen was already sashaying down the hallway, shouting a quick, “I’ll never tell!” over her shoulder.

“I could just overshadow you and find out.” The halfa added vehemently, though there was small half-smile curving the corner of his lips. 

“Mmh,” She paused in her retreat as if genuinely considering it. “No. You wouldn’t.”

The Latina was right, unfortunately. He’d never overshadow someone without their consent. 

Darn hero morals.

He grumbled something less than complimentary under his breath that Paulina elected to ignore,

“Aren’t you coming?” She gestured at the end of the hallway. “Thought you had to go to the bathroom.”

Danny paused for a moment to pull himself together, then followed after her, still a mottled red.

After she’d shown him to the bathroom, the Latina acted as a temporary tour guide and led him back to Dash’s entertainment room, commenting on the different styles and interior tidbits of the house all the while.

When they returned, she unhooked her arm from his (she’d insisted Danny not put his full weight on his ankle) and strutted in like she owned the place.

Kwan and Dash were sprawled out on the carpeted floor, the news paper article lying abandoned between them as they conversed.

“—I just think its entirely possible.” The darker-haired of the two said, crunching down on a chip. “I mean, that one ghost can do it, right?”

“But I’ve never seen Phantom do it, and I watched him like _all_ the time,” There was a foreign smile on the blonde’s face, twisting his lips into unfamiliar shapes. 

Kwan finally noticed the other two’s arrival, shooting them both a wide, upside down grin from his vantage point on the floor. “Well he’s right over there, why don’t we just ask him ourselves?”

Even Danny, oblivious though he may be, noticed the red flush that swept Dash by storm.

The jock chocked, sitting up straight to pound on his chest. “Jeez, Kwan! Why didn’t you tell me!?” As soon as he was no longer dying, the teen reached over and punched his friend in the arm. 

Kwan’s playful grin dipped into a downright evil smirk, shooting Danny a smug look. “Didn’t feel like it.”

The resident Latina, though she seemed to be enjoying Dash’s palpable embarrassment, cut it short by sitting criss-cross on the floor next to him. “Ask Danny what?”

“If he could teleport. Dash doesn’t think he can.”

Even though they’d made him welcome earlier, it still felt strange to insert himself into their inner circle. To be the subject of their conversation. 

The halfa shifted forward hesitantly, lingering on the outside of their circle while trying to gauge Dash’s face for any sign of a negative reaction.

Sure, they’d worked out a hesitant truce before, but maybe—

As if reading his mind, the blonde’s head swung upwards, pinning Danny’s gaze with his own. 

When the other spoke, his voice was harsh, “What the hell, Fenton? Sit down before you collapse.”

For a second, Danny was sure he’d heard wrong. That his ghostly ears were screwing him over, even though they’d never done so before. “What?”

It looked like the blond was going to explode, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he glared daggers at the standing teen. “I said get the fresh frick of your feet before you collapse, _moron_.”

“Oh.” Danny shuffled towards them, purposefully angling himself between Kwan and Paulina, the latter of which had a strange smile on her face.

“I can’t believe how stupid you are,” Dash continued, pushing up off the floor and stomping towards him.

The halfa wished it was socially acceptable to turn invisible as he tried to lean as far back as humanly possible. “Dash, what are you—”

The jock absolutely confounded his usual victim by kneeling in front of him, grabbing his hurt ankle and pulling it up into the air. He yanked the leg of Danny’s pants up, revealing swollen skin.

“You absolute idiot,” Dash grimaced at the offending limb, flexing it left and right as he watched the youngest Fenton’s face for a reaction. “You’re just making it worse by being such a stubborn patient. Use the crutch, or I’ll break your knees. Understood?”

They must have fallen into some kind of alternate dimension; that was the only explanation for Dash’s strange behaviour. 

Danny felt the cold fingers on his skin press a little harder. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to draw his wandering attention back up to Dash’s face.

“You still with me, Fenton?” The blond asked, that same impassive expression fixed in place.

The halfa’s ghostly empathy, however, told a very different story. 

_Concern._

There was the barest trace of poorly concealed concern among Dash’s internal whirlpool of confusion, anger, and—surprisingly—something akin to self-loathing.

So shocked was he by this most recent revelation, that he didn’t realize the other had asked him a question.

“Right,” Danny cleared his throat, glancing at Paulina for help and finding only that same satisfied smile in place. “I can, uh, do that. I guess.”

It didn’t look like Dash believed him in the least, but he nodded nonetheless. “Kwan, make sure this halfwit doesn’t break himself while I’m gone.”

The raven-haired jock gave his best friend a two fingered salute, “Yes, sir.”

Dash snorted and exited the living room, disappearing into the kitchen.

Danny blinked, still not entirely sure he hadn’t hallucinated their entire interaction. “What was that?”

“Ah,” Kwan crammed another chip into his mouth, giving him a wide smile. “That was some good old Baxter concern. You’ll get used to it, eventually.”

“He takes injuries very seriously.” Paulina added, leaning in front of Danny to swipe some of Kwan’s Doritos. “We think it has something to do with all the scary football horror stories he’s heard.”

“Yeah, there was this one time I tore my ham during a tournament game. You should’ve seen his fa—”

“We don’t talk about that.” Dash had re-materialized in the entertainment room entryway, a bundled-up dish cloth in hand and a scowl on his face.

Instead of sitting back down, as Danny had expected him to do, the jock veered straight towards him.

“You need to ice this more, or its just going to get worse.” He fixed the halfa with another glare. “And if it gets worse you won’t be able to save your dork friends.”

Danny winced. Even after all this time, Dash was still a master manipulator. He knew exactly what the ghost boy wanted and used it to his advantage, even though this time it was technically to Danny’s advantage as well.

As if he had any actual choice in the matter, Danny pretended to consider it. “Fine,” He held out his hand.

Upon closer inspection, he realized it was actually just a bag of frozen peas, but it would do in a pinch. 

Dash ignored the resurgence of Danny’s stubborn will and watched the halfa fix it on to his ankle. Only then did he sit back down, scooping up the news article as he went.

“Thanks,” Danny muttered only somewhat reluctantly, easing the cloth wrapped bag onto his injury. The ice made his core give a pleased hum, dragging a smile onto his lips despite the pain.

It was becoming increasingly difficult not to notice Kwan and Paulina’s mischievous side-eyes, but Danny did his best to pay them no heed. 

Hoping to get the attention off himself and back onto the issue at hand, he gestured at the article,

“So, what have we figured out so far?”

Dash was all too happy to hop on the topic change, “Right. Kwan, you want to get all _Grammarly_ on us?”

“Would be my pleasure,” The other jock wiped his smirk away, though the remainders of it lingered at the corner of his lips. “So far, we know that Katherine Ladouceur died in a ghost related car crash. Idolon, who is obviously our blackmailing madwoman, has apparently gone completely kooky. Agreed?”

The three listeners nodded.

“My theory is, she’s mad at you,” Kwan pointed a finger at Danny, looking apologetic about it all the while. “That is to say, your alter ego, because she thinks you’re the reason her sister is dead.”

To Danny’s left, Paulina audibly forced down a mouthful of chip before speaking, “That makes sense. I didn’t even know about the whole Freakshow involvement, and I’m a hardened fangirl. There’s no way some genetic researcher would know it wasn’t actually Phantom’s fault.”

“Revenge,” Dash added his two cents, nodding as if he’d just graced them all with sage wisdom.

“But that doesn’t explain what she wants to do with Phantom, or how she figured out the connection between him and Danny.” Kwan made a face, turning to the halfa with a frown, “Between you and you? Between Phantom and Danny? You know what I mean.”

The ghost boy himself absently stared at his injured ankle, not really hearing Kwan’s words. Something wasn’t adding up. 

It felt as though there was some aspect of the equation missing. Like they were mere seconds away from figuring out the truth but couldn’t, not without one more crucial anecdote.

“But how is she controlling the ghosts? Where’d she get the funding? A genetic researcher shouldn’t have the resources too—”

The fledgling journalist shot him a grin, eyes dancing at the prospect of a scoop. “Ah, that’s the thing. My guess is she’s not acting alone. Who else do we know that harbours a biased hatred of Phantom, wants to get their grubby paws on him, and has the means too?”

“Vlad,” Danny muttered bitterly, at the same time Paulina balefully spat out “Red Huntress”.

Kwan rolled his eyes at them, “No, stupids. Phantom’s _other_ sworn enemies.”

Danny turned his head back to Kwan, giving the other a sheepish smile. “The Guys in White.”

“Bingo! Fifty points to Fenton.” The raven-haired teen cracked his knuckles, “That’s my theory, anyways.”

“Works.” Dash intoned, munching a Dorito. “Too bad they’re going to regret it.”

“Regret it?” The ghost boy shot him a concerned look, “What are you going to do?”

“ _Me_?” The blond looked at Danny as if there were corn sprouting behind his ears. “ _I’m_ not going to do anything. You’re going to kick butt.”

Danny sputtered, his brain short circuiting at another strange resurfacing of Dash’s kindness. “R-right. Kick butt.”

Dash groaned, pushing himself back up to his feet. “I still can’t believe your Phantom. You’re such an idiot.” But there was a smile hidden in the folds of his lips.

“That’s enough planning for one day,” Paulina remarked, stretching her arms out over his head.

The halfa didn’t miss the way Dash’s eyes tracked her every movement, especially focusing on the strip of tanned skin peeking out at her midriff.

Apparently Danny wasn’t the only one with a little crush.

Kwan—apparently harbouring a death-wish—was making kissey faces behind Paulina and pretending to swoon into Danny’s arms.

Either Dash didn’t see him or was outright ignoring his best friend’s antics. 

“Let’s eat,” The Latina continued, unaware of the situation at hand. “I’m thinking leftover pizza if you have any, Dash.”

“Yeah,” The blond cleared his throat, following after her into the kitchen like a lost puppy. “A-anything for you.”

Kwan snorted loudly, rolling his eyes so far that Danny was sure they’d pop out of his head, before making his way after the two lovebirds.

Danny cast the abandoned news article one last look, trying to unsuccessfully bury that same sinking feeling as earlier while he limped towards the kitchen. 

They were missing something.

_He was sure of it._

…oooOOO-TUCKER-OOOooo…

Tucker wasn’t sure how many hours had passed, but it felt like hundreds. 

The door, which he’d long since diagnosed as electric, had a panel inside the wall. How did Tucker know that? Simple. He’d spent a couple of his ‘hundreds of hours’ removing the steel walls with his pocket multi-tool.

He wasn’t sure if the crazy woman had searched hi. while he was unconscious (creepy) and deemed the tool useless, or if she had enough confidence in her ghostly watchdogs to trust them with his imprisonment.

Either way, she’d made a big mistake.

Inside the panelling was a low-grade six number lock, which he assumed was meant for his door.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, he proceeded to disassemble the device from behind. 

It was easy, suspiciously so, until he found the first g-board in a layer of Philip screws. _GIW_ was inscribed on its corner. 

The simplicity of it all suddenly made perfect sense; those guys were idiots. 

Grinning, as he was always up for proving those neophytes wrong, he yanked out one of the insulated wires, tweaked the circuit, and _Voila!_

The door slid open with an extremely satisfying sound and a minimal amount of smoke.

Pausing only to pocket his trusty multi-tool, he poked his head out the door and was off.

Tucker had hacked GIW files before, mostly when he was looking for a break from real databases, so he had a very minimal understanding of their layout.

“If I’m correct, the other capture room should be right—”

He faltered mid-step, finally taking in one crucial detail,

_There was no way both he and Sam could escape from here._

Crazy lady probably knew he’d broken out. In fact, there was likely an entire army of mind-controlled ghosts heading for him as he stood here wasting time. 

As if mocking his very thought process, a crude alarm began to sound above, the lights flickering red in true Thriller movie fashion.

By the time he’d hacked Sam’s door code, it would be too late. But he could— _would_ —never leave her.

She was his best friend; if she didn’t leave, he didn’t leave. That was final.

Which meant he needed a new plan, and fast.

Thinking back to lazy Saturday hacking nights, he tried to recall anything in a GIW facility that could prove useful to him.

Then it struck like a bolt of arcane lightning; the perfect idea.

Snapping into action, he turned his back on Sam’s cell and ran as fast as his legs could carry him in the other direction.

It physically pained him to leave her behind, but the fact that at least he wasn’t escaping without her was enough to stay any crippling guilt.

Tucker shoved the thought aside and focused on the task at hand, mentally mapping his way through the GIW’s blueprints. 

If his memory wasn’t pulling a fast one on him, then a control room should be right ahead.

He felt like laughing—or crying, he wasn’t sure—when he saw open steel doors, multiple computer monitors on their other side.

The techno-geek’s relieved jubilation lasted for all of twenty seconds, quickly being interrupted by a searing ectoball.

Letting out a less than heroic squawk, Tucker risked a glance over his shoulder to see no less than seven ghosts on his tail, all glassy-eyed and flying fast.

He loosed the most savage curses in his arsenal, willing his already aching legs to move even faster.

Another shot connected with the tile to his right, close enough for him to smell the copper tang it gave off, but it only spurned him to new speeds.

He was really regretting not taking Sam up on her fitness regime.

With one last heave, he passed between the huge metal doorframe and slapped his hand against the emergency lockdown button.

The doors creaked to life with agonizing slowness, seeming to inch together as the incoming ghosts flew even faster.

Tucker spotted familiar faces among their number, wincing at the strangely slack-jawed looks on their faces.

Absently, as his death seemed swiftly approaching, he wondered if controlling so many at the same time was difficult. They certainly didn’t seem to be moving with their usual speed.

The Box Ghost was seconds from entering, pallid fingers outstretched, when the doors finally did their job and _closed_. The sealed in the middle, clicking shut.

Tucker may or may not have whimpered with sheer relief.

Now came the true test: had the GIW ever finished ghost proofing their walls?

The satisfying sound of otherworldly entities colliding with metal was like music to his ears, almost enough to put a smile ono his face.

Overtaken with the fact that he was still alive, he moved towards the doors and pressed a lone middle ginger to their glass display window, winking at the confuzzled ghosts before getting started on his actual mission.

The techno-geek booted up one of the monitors and plopped into its accompanying office chair, glad to get the weight off poor, overworked legs. When—not if—he ever got out of here, he was eating a double cheeseburger. Or three.

An unobtrusive Windows loading screen popped up and Tucker bypassed it with a bored click, typing in the GIW employee password of the month with casual nonchalance.

Once he was in, Tucker opened Google and pulled up maps.

Clicking ‘display location’, he let out a relieved breath when he saw that they were being held in an Amity facility.

Then, he screenshotted the image before closing out of the tab with a smirk.

This was almost too easy.

His plan was to email Danny their location and let the halfa rescue them, palms abalzin’. The only issue with that was remembering his old password.

Tucker was a technological genius, no doubt about it. He could recall the most complex and secret of passwords on the planet, which meant that they occupied a lot of space in his mind.

Space that most people had filled with their insta information, or, say, their email passwords from middle school.

His frantic password trying was abruptly interrupted by something big and heavy colliding with the control room’s door, causing the whole room to shudder on impact.

Almost too scared to look, Tucker briefed a glance over and saw Dora, in dragon form, ramming her entire body against the steel.

Apparently crazy lady had taken Tucker’s unofficial challenge to heart.

Typing faster now, he was almost out of personal passwords to try when attempt number sixteen proved successful. 

He held back a triumphant cheer and, wasting no time, quickly composed a draft to _stargazer24_ and copied the screenshotted location, fingers drumming frantically as he waited for it to upload. 

A crash echoed at seventy-four percent complete, then another splintering _bang_ at ninety-four. 

Just as the metal doors gave a final jarring crunch, metal shrieking as it split apar, the photo uploaded to his draft.

Tucker gave the most satisfying click of his life over that blue send button, grinning madly as the computer confirmed his success with a buzz.

Not even the cold, ghostly hands on his shoulders were not enough to quell his satisfaction. Somewhere behind him, Dora growled, but Tucker was too pleased with himself too pay the dragon any mind.

Then Skulker was lifting him, the mind-controlled ghost’s cold aura wrapping around him as Tucker was turned intangible. He felt his beret dislodge, falling to the floor with a pathetic lack of fanfare.

But he didn’t care; he’d gotten his message to Danny. He’d saved them.

“I’ve always wanted to say this,” He levelled a maddening smile at the assembled entities, flipping them double birds as he was floated into the air. “You’re too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Finally!!_ I've been waiting to showcase Tucker's awesomeness for soooo long in this fic!!
> 
> Sorry I kind of dropped off the face of the earth, but like...I'm back now??
> 
> This chapter got a little out of hand in length (like 2,000 thousand words out of hand e_e) so hopefully it wasn't a pain to read
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!! Comments give me life if you've got the time ;)
> 
> Stay safe and have a great day <333
> 
> ~ASL


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